The Magic Revolution
by Tellemicus Sundance
Summary: The world is descending into darkness. With Voldemort rising again, corruption rampant in the government, and bias against Muggleborns growing, the Wizarding World is in desperate need of their long lost hero. Needing a way to combat the darkness, Dumbledore has reinstated the Triwizard Tournament. Things are going well, until someone mysterious arrives during the Final Task...
1. The Challenger

**The Magic Revolution**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
 _#01: The Challenger_

 **June 24, 2015**

The Maze was a hive of activity, loud chitters and the occasional roar, the snapping and crushing of foliage, and the muffled shouts of the three Champions inside as they cast their spells. It had taken them the better part of an hour, but they could feel it. They were drawing closer to the center of the accursed Maze. They knew this because they'd started bumping into each other with much more frequency than they had earlier. The large audience that surrounded the Quidditch-Pitch-Turned-Maze were a surprisingly varied collection from across Wizarding Europe, though primarily from the three representative schools. Most of the gathered spectators were watching a series of misty screens floating over the edges of the Maze like giant television monitors with avid interest.

From where he was seated on the pavilion where the other judges presided, Dumbledore felt a small smile cross his face as he watched the three Champions endure their Final Task. It was both heartening and disappointing to the old Hogwarts headmaster. It was only this past year that things had finally started to somewhat improve for the British Wizarding World. Sadly, based on the rumors he'd been hearing lately, his colleagues and associates from all over the rest of the world couldn't say the same.

A loud cry of victory from the Hogwarts contingent drew the Headmaster from his thoughts. Cedric Diggory had just managed to slip past the last remaining specimen of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts. The path to the Trophy was all but clear now for him. As the one presently in first place, Cedric was arguably having the toughest luck since he was the one bumping into the obstacles first. Although, that's not to say that Viktor and Fleur weren't having their share of bad luck either. Fleur Delacour's most harsh trial had been when she'd become disoriented and suffered a mild case of vertigo when she'd briefly gotten trapped within a gravity-defying golden mist. She was barely able to stumble out of it before she completely collapsed in a senseless heap of vomit. Viktor Krum's biggest obstacle had been when he ran into a sphinx and decided to try forcing his way through her, a reckless and dangerous choice. He'd managed to limp away with savage slashes down his leg and his dominant arm was hanging limply because of the shoulder bite he'd sustained. Given how dangerous sphinxes were, it was a miracle he'd managed to get passed her _alive_ , regardless of his injuries. But now, finally, the trials were over. Now it was just a race to find the center and get the Trophy first. And, judging by how tightly packed together they were, it would be a close one at that.

" _This is it, ladies and gentlemen!_ " Bagman cried out, his voice amplified with the Sonorous once again. " _The final stretch to the Trophy! Who will reach it first and claim eternal glory?!_ " The crowd were quite literally on the edges of their seats, leaning forward with eager anticipation as they watched their favored champions rush forward through the winding paths of the Maze. Each of them were in a slightly different section of the Maze closest to the Trophy. Each section had its own opening that led straight to the center, if only the Champion could find it.

" _Krum's found a way in!_ " Bagman declared, announcing the Durmstrang champion's success. This brought a rather loud cheer from the Durmstrang and eastern Europe wizards, stomping their feet triumphantly. " _What an upset, people! It looks like he's got the best chance—Wait! Ms. Delacour's found her way in!_ " Indeed, the blonde Champion of Beauxbatons was now running down the final stretch of the Maze. The cheer from the Beauxbatons' supporters were noticeably louder than Durmstrang, since they were closer to Hogwarts and so more were able to attend as a result. " _Incredible! We've got a race to fini—Diggory's entered!_ " The cheer from the Hogwarts supporters was better described as a deafening roar, being that more than half of the audience were British in origin.

Despite himself, Dumbledore couldn't help shuffling a bit in his own seat as he watched the race approach its climatic final moments. Though he'd entered closer to the Trophy and sooner than his rivals thanks to his opening's location, Krum was actually at a disadvantage due to his injuries severely slowing him down. He was barely shuffling along, strongly favoring his one good leg, probably so highly jacked up on adrenaline that he couldn't feel anything beyond his desire and need to win. Ms. Delacour and Mr. Diggory were fairing much better by comparison, though Ms. Delacour seemed to have a slight upper hand on Diggory. Though they were both running at their best speeds, it was obvious that Diggory was nowhere near in as good a physical shape as the French witch. The boy may have been a star Quidditch player at Hogwarts, but that didn't amount to much in a footrace. By comparison, Delacour was practically floating across the earth at a ground-eating pace that would've left Diggory in the dust had they been side by side. Overall, despite the uneven and varied distances they had to reach the Trophy, all three were approaching at nearly the same speeds. It would be a truly close call for who grabbed the Trophy first.

Just as he'd predicted, Dumbledore watched as the three Champions left the Maze and entered the centermost area at nearly the same time as each other. Once inside, they all paused to catch their breaths, leaning heavily on the nearest support they could find as they quickly looked around the new area, searching for traps. Since the interior of the Maze was magically silenced to prevent any of Bagman's commentary from reaching and distracting them, none of them had known that they were all about to reunite inside. Dumbledore couldn't hold in the slight grin as he watched their surprised expressions upon spotting each other before identical scowls of annoyance flashed across each of them.

" _What'll they do now?!_ " Bagman was yelling excitedly. " _Will they drop everything and_ _ **rush**_ _the Trophy?! Will they_ _ **duel**_ _it out with each other,_ _ **winner take all**_ _?! Will they try to_ _ **compromise**_ _?! The suspense is_ _ **killing**_ _me!_ " Many in the crowd agreed with the loudmouth commentator on _that_. Sadly, the answer would likely never be known.

It was at that instant that everything stopped going according to plan.

* * *

Cedric was heaving heavily for breath as he somewhat glared to the side, towards the other Champions. ' _That took longer than I hoped_ ,' he thought forlornly. ' _I wish I could've been just a_ _ **little**_ _bit faster_.' Similar thoughts were going through Fleur and Viktor's minds as well, cursing themselves for getting lost for so long in the Maze. ' _But…what do I do now?_ '

The Tournament officials hadn't said what to do in a situation like this. There was the trophy, sitting right there in the center of the small clearing of the Maze. There were no more surprises, monsters, or traps between him and it. But the same was also true for Viktor and Fleur, who he could see just beyond on opposite sides of the trophy. In a straight race, he didn't favor his chances at reaching it first. If anything, he suspected that Fleur would get it first because she didn't seem as winded as him or injured like Viktor seemed to be. However, that didn't mean that Viktor was incapable of using some kind of magic to distract either them. Who knows what kind of Dark Magic he learned while at Durmstrang after all.

Movement by the trophy caught his eye, Cedric immediately hefted up his wand in preparation. Apparently, the movement was also noticed by Fleur and Viktor. But because of the darkness of night surrounding them, none of them could see what it was. Scowling in annoyance, Cedric raised his wand, " _Lumos!_ " and sent a ball of light flying from his wandtip to hover above the figure. Fleur and Viktor quickly sent their own respective Lumos to help further light up the area. What he saw illuminated by the lumos balls was a small person, probably a kid just a little younger than himself. That was all he could judge about the person since the body was quite clearly male in stature, but otherwise wearing a dark, travel-worn cloak with a deep hood up.

"Who are you?" Viktor barked out, confusion in his voice despite his guarded expression. The figure remained silent, it's body shifting slightly as it looked over its shoulder towards the burly Champion.

"Are you one of the tournament officials?" Fleur asked, earning the figure's attention. Despite her question, it was obvious to Cedric that she didn't believe that was the case anymore than he did.

"Is this some kind of hidden test of the Task?" Cedric called out, keeping himself guarded in case this was some kind of trick. After the figure looked towards him, Cedric couldn't help feeling a shiver go down his spine. The apparent lack of a face under that hood was fairly haunting in a way. Despite himself, the appearance brought to Cedric's mind images of what Death Eaters must've looked like back in the war. "Answer us!"

Rather than answer, the figure lowered his head slightly as his shoulders started shaking slightly. It started lowly, but rapidly grew in volume. Cedric realized that the boy was chuckling, laughing at them. "What's so funny, boy?"

"You three are the _best_ that your schools have to offer?" the boy finally said. His tone was somewhat condescending, cocky, and immediately stoked each of the Champions' anger. "How disappointing."

"What's _that_ mean?" Viktor demanded, glaring darkly at the boy, his wand now noticeably held in a threatening manner. "Who _are_ you anyway?!"

"Who am I?" the boy repeated, condescending surprise obvious in his voice. "Isn't it obvious?"

Spreading open his cloak as he suddenly dropped into a deep stance, he held out his arms to the sides. Cedric could see that the boy wore some weird kind of clothing that he vaguely recognized as being oriental in origin. The robe-like shirt was mostly black with golden-yellow edgings and seams, along with broad yellow stripes running down the sides of his sleeves and tan-colored pants. As he swept down into his stance, a sudden oppressive wave of sweltering heat sprung to life around them. Cedric couldn't help gasping in surprise as the heat wave slammed into him with all the subtly of a Troll in Diagon Alley. And he wasn't the only one to stagger backwards a few steps in surprise, Fleur and Viktor mirroring him as they too were overcome briefly by the heat.

"This is a _tournament_ ," the boy called out loudly. He raised his hands skywards before suddenly bringing them downwards. As he did, fire spontaneously sprung to life around his fists, erupting from the ground all around them, and blasting outwards in every direction, eliciting cries of surprise from each of the Champions as they staggered back several more steps. "I'M A _CHALLENGER!_ "

Immediately following his declaration, the fires around him sprung up even higher. As though they had minds of themselves, the fires flew over and through the hedgerows that surrounded and made up the entirety of the Maze. Almost as soon as the fires passed them, the hedges ignited in fire as well, creating a conflagration that was eerily reminiscent of some depictions of Hell. Even through the silencing charms surrounding the Maze, the screams of fright that sprung from the audience were audible to the Champions. Not that they needed to be concerned since the flames spread no further than the hedges themselves. Each of the Champions were forced to throw up shield charms to protect themselves from the onrushing fires, straining mightily against the staggeringly powerful fires.

* * *

Outside the Maze, it was little more than a state of panic and confusion. It started when the cloaked figure stepped before the champions and promptly set the entire Maze afire. Despite the terrible scene, none of the officials or Headmasters could move forward just yet. The reason for this was that the Maze had a series of complex charms and protections around it. The only time that the protections would allow anyone inside was if one of the Champions had fired up red sparks, signaling that they needed immediate aid and were willing to withdraw. That or the Trophy being taken and a victor was declared.

"What is going on here?!" Minister Fudge was demanding, looking around almost accusingly at the other tournament officials and Headmasters that were seated near him. "Why is there someone in the Maze with the Champions? I was under the impression that _no one_ was allowed inside until it was _over!_ "

"And I can assure you, Minister, that no one had entered the Maze since the Task started," Dumbledore stated, as calmly as he could manage, given the situation and what he was seeing inside. The mysterious figure was talking softly to the Champions with a wide grin on his face.

"And yet there's someone in there!" Fudge pointed out, almost sounding like he was whining like a child.

"Yes, it begs the question," Karkaroff said, his voice laced with his usual snide tone as he looked pointedly over at Dumbledore. " _How_ could that boy possibly have gotten inside after the protections went up? Could he have received some… _help_ from certain parties to ruin—?"

"I would think the answer is obvious, Karkaroff," Professor Alastor Moody snapped, his magical eye remaining fixated on the maze while the rest of him turned to glare at the 'reformed' Death Eater. "If Dumbledore says that no one has entered since the Task _started_ , then no one has. Which means that he was inside the Maze _before_ it even started. Probably hiding somewhere along one of the far corners since we were more concerned about unleashing the creatures and setting up the traps and trophy to really concern ourselves with searching the Maze for any intruders."

"You seem to have put a lot of thought into this, Moody," Karkaroff said, a not-so-hidden threat obvious in his tone as he turned his glare on the scarred former Auror. That was when the entirety of the Maze suddenly burst into flames, causing all of the officials and many of the watching spectators to flinch away in surprise and cry out.

"What happened?!" Madam Maxime cried out. "Why's it burning?!"

"No _one_ wizard could perform a feat like this alone," Dumbledore observed, his mind already shifting into battle mode. "There's must be more of them in there. Alastor?"

" _Attack!_ It's an _attack!_ " Fudge was yelling. Turning to a nearby Auror guard, he yelled out, "Get back to the Ministry _and get more Aurors! WE'RE_ _ **UNDER ATTACK**_ _HERE!_ " The man didn't need to be told twice, immediately turning and running off.

With his magical eye, Moody quickly surveyed the entire Maze, searching. "It's empty. Aside from the creatures, none of which have even been singed, by the way, there are no other wizards or witches there!"

"What?!" the various officials and Headmasters said in varying amounts of disbelief. The most prevalent thought between them all being: how could _one_ wizard spontaneously burn more than _two acres_ worth of hedgerows? Such a thing was nigh impossible for someone as great and powerful as Dumbledore and even Voldemort themselves!

That was when they saw the protective dome around the Maze shimmer and vanish. The Tournament was over…but how?

* * *

After a long moment, the fires receded enough for the Champions to see the boy again. He had thrown back his hood during the onslaught, revealing his face at long last. Cedric was unsurprised to see that his assumption about the boy's age was correct, he was indeed younger than him. The boy had spiky black hair that stuck up at odd angles, bright green eyes that seemed to glow in the fires' light, and a face that was marred by a large jagged red scar running from the bridge of his nose and across his left cheek towards his ear. His body was somewhat lanky, clearly just entering his growth spurt, but the muscles on his body were plainly visible through his light clothes as well. His mouth was pulled back into a cocky smirk.

Rapidly spinning around, the boy swept his cloak over the Triwizard Tournament trophy, having it disappear into his cloak as he returned to his earlier position. "You want this trophy? COME AND _GET IT!_ "

Hollering in anger, Viktor immediately took up the boy's challenge, sending a Blasting Hex at him. The boy heard the Durmstrang champion's cry and immediately leapt away, rising easily six meters into the air, landing with a dainty spinning grace that seemed out of place on his lanky body. Raising his hand, the boy sent a concentrated ball of fire at Viktor. " _Karyuu no Koen!_ " Viktor Krum hastily dropped to a knee and transfigured the ground below him into a large boulder, blocking him from the explosive fireball as it erupted when it struck. Cedric couldn't help raising his brow at the boy's casual demonstration of strength and speed. What kind of magic was he using to jump so high, spin so fast, and use fire _without a wand_?!

Fleur moved in then, casting multiple fast and silent Stunners, Impediment Jinxes, and Leg-locking Curses. However, the fire boy easily noticed these attacks due to the bright lights they gave off as they raced through the air towards him. He danced and dodged around the spells with maddening speed and mocking ease, grinning widely the whole time. "Come _on_ , guys!" the boy called out to them as he dodged yet another Stunner. "At least make this a _challenge_ for me!"

Scowling darkly, Cedric swept forward, joining Fleur in attacking the boy. Unlike his Beaxbatons' rival, Cedric used transfiguration and conjuration on the area around them. He changed the ground under the boy into ice to disrupt his footing. Despite the surprise, the boy just smirked as steam flared up under him, the ice melting almost immediately underneath his feet as fires burst to life from his boots. Cedric next transfigured some stones and pebbles around him into glass shards and sent them flying towards the boy. This, combined with Fleur blasting high-powered water from her wand, caused the boy to stumble backwards from the cutting glass and water pressure. Then a bolt of lightning flew forward from behind them, combining with the water and glass, and struck the boy, knocking him off his feet. He cried out as he was sent flying several feet before he crumpled to the ground in a deadened heap. Cedric and Fleur both glanced back at Viktor momentarily, who'd been the one to use the lightning.

Staggering forward to stand alongside his rivals, Viktor glared down at the unmoving boy. "All that talk, and you go down so quickly… How disappointing."

"Maybe," Cedric agreed, frowning thoughtfully. "But where did he learn to use this kind of magic?! Have _either_ of you ever heard of a wizard or a witch who could use magic like _this_ before?"

"The Ministers will be wanting to talk to him after this," Fleur observed, cautiously stepping towards the downed boy. "No one in Europe can use magic like this. And look at his clothes. He must've learned it from the Far East wizards."

"Whatever, let's get that trophy and get this over with," Viktor snapped, starting to move forward to claim his prize.

"Already?" The three Champions jumped back several steps as the boy suddenly sprung to his feet, smirking broadly and looking none the worse for wear. "But this was just getting fun!"

Simultaneously, the three champions launched Stunners at the boy. But he blasted skywards, _literally_. Fires flared out of the heels of his boots as he shot into the air, allowing him to fly about easily. " _Karyuu no Kagizume!_ "

"Let's keep playing for a little bit longer!" Raising his hands over his head, he formed a large fireball, easily three times as large as himself. "But right now, it's my turn to attack! _Karyuu no Koen!_ " he yelled before lobbing the fireball down towards them.

All three Champions raised their wands and created shields that merged into each other, forming a tri-layered dome of translucent magic around them. The fireball struck the dome and exploded spectacularly, straining all three of them as they labored to maintain their combined shield. The explosion and smoke had scarcely had a chance to dissipate before they spotted the boy coming down towards, fires coating one of his cocked fists with a large grin on his face as he bellowed a challenging roar. With all the force of a freight train, he slammed his fire-coated fist into the fused shield. To their credit, the combined shield was able to hold back the force of the blow for a few precious seconds…before it suddenly shattered like glass.

" _Karyuu no Tekken!_ " The boy's bellow became mixed with cries of surprise and fright from the Champions as he shot downwards fist first into their midst. An explosion came to life that cratered the ground around them and sent all three of them flying backwards in different directions.

Landing heavily upon his back and having the wind knocked from his chest, Cedric gasped out in distress. ' _He's so_ _ **powerful**_ _! Who—_ _ **What**_ _is he?!_ ' After a few seconds to regain his breath, Cedric pushed himself up into a sitting position and brought his hand up to fire a spell at the boy. But he blinked in surprise at seeing that his wand missing. _Shit_ , he'd dropped it during the explosion somewhere!

"Heheheheh," the boy's quiet laughter drew his attention. The boy now stood at the edge of the meter-wide, half-meter deep crater he'd made with that ever-present grin still on his face as he looked over at Cedric. "That's the problem with being a Holder-type wizard. _Totally_ _helpless_ without your little magic stick. Heheheh!"

"Who are you?" Fleur asked, drawing the boys' attentions. After a moment, Cedric suddenly became all-too-aware of just how incredibly beautiful she truly was. Even with how filthy and tired she was because of the Maze and this fight, her beauty remained utterly unblemished. "You _do_ have a name, right? What is it?" It took a few moments for Cedric to realize just what Fleur was doing. Trying to use her Veela charm to distract the boy while fishing for information, so that Viktor could strike him down when he wasn't looking.

"I'm the Salamander!" the boy answered cheerfully, puffing up his chest slightly as he scratched the back of his head with one hand. His gaze was every bit as clear and coherent as ever. "Not that I imagine that name means anything to you guys yet. After all, you wizards go out of your way to ignore or look down on anything that doesn't fit in your perfect little corner of the world."

' _What the?_ ' Cedric thought in surprise. ' _He's not reacting like most other men around a Veela. Is he…Is he somehow immune to the Charm?_ ' That's when what the boy said clicked in his mind. "Salamander? What's…that supposed to mean?"

Gesturing towards Cedric triumphantly, the newly-named Salamander said, "I rest my case!"

" _Crucio!_ " Viktor barked, taking his chance to throw the most incapacitating spell that he knew at the boy's back. Warned by the Champion's incantation, the Salamander easily sidestepped the Unforgiveable Curse as he inhaled deeply. Before Viktor could attack again, the boy's cheeks bulged immensely as he settled into a deep anchoring stance. As the boy opened his mouth, Viktor saw the conflagration of flames inside his mouth and immediately threw himself to the side.

" _ **Karyuu no Hoko!**_ " The strange name that he called out as he launched his attack was quickly swallowed up and transformed into feral roar that matched the flaming tornado he'd created. Even with his injured leg, Viktor dodged at not a second too soon as the flames blasted forward towards him, forming into a large funnel that incinerated everything within their immediate path to ash. The sheer destructive power of these flames was quite blatantly obvious to all three of the Champions. They watched in stunned, horrified silence as the horizontal tornado of flames continued flying onwards on their path for several hundred meters before finally dissipating. Once the fire tornado had died down, they turned to look incredulously at the one who'd launched it.

The gaze in the boy's eyes had changed dramatically. It was no longer cheerful and playful. It was angry, a fiery rage that promised instant pain. It spoke of rage, of power, of dominance and triumph. But above all it spoke of fire, and for the duration of the glare, the three Champions saw something strange and very terrifying. Somehow, silhouetted by the burning flames of the Maze's hedgerows, standing in his shadow and snarling over his shoulder at them, was a massive dragon with glowing eyes. The fiery glare in both the Salamander and dragon's eyes revealed the boy's fury. And they sent reverberations through their very souls in an impossible fashion that made them want to beg and scrape to avoid the simple truth that they were so much smaller than the predator that stood before them. Cedric knew for a fact that it lasted not but three seconds, but it seemed to last so much longer than that.

Seeing that he had at least gained Viktor's undivided attention, the Salamander growled out lowly. The phantom image of the dragon behind him faded away as the boy's glare lessened, his anger fading somewhat. There were small smoke trails still coming out of the corners of his mouth as he said, "If you're going to fight _like that_ , then _don't_ be surprised or angry when _I_ start to too." Despite himself, Viktor just nodded numbly, dropping painfully to the ground as his injuries and exhaustion finally hit him. Turning back to Fleur and Cedric, he growled out, "Anyone _else?_ "

* * *

Outside, things had not settled down. In fact, the sudden blazing appearance of the Salamander's fire breath attack had done much in scaring people away. Especially since it had blasted a massive hole through the portion of the stadium stands that it was directed towards, terrifying the poor people and children who'd been closest to it. Thankfully, they weren't within its direct path of travel, being several meters higher up, but the fire and heat were still stifling and terrifying to witness. Many of the students had fled the Quidditch pitch and were mingling just outside of its stadium stands. The parents had left to seek out their children among the groups. The Ministry officials were floundering about in the stands, trying to find a way down onto the pitch that didn't involve jumping from the two-story-high stands. The remaining spectators and invited foreign guests and officials were all either demanding answers from the nearest wizards they could get their hands on, which usually was a passing Auror, or they were excitedly trying to figure out what was happening down in the center of the maze.

"Over here!" Auror Savage yelled, having finally discovered a small set of stairs that led down to the pitch. "I found some stairs! Let's go!"

But as he was turning to descend the stairs, he heard a faint rustle of clothing as something slammed into his stomach. The force of the blow was strong enough to knock the wind from his lungs as it sent him flying three meters backwards. He slammed into a pair of nearby witches who'd been previously seated in the front row of the stands and had been rushing for the end of the row of seats, his flailing body knocked all three of them down haphazardly. Climbing as quickly to his feet as his aching abdomen and heaving for breath could allow, Savage thrust his wand forwards towards the cloaked attacker who'd gotten the drop on him. But even as he launched a Stunner from his wand, the cloaked person held up a yellow glowing bare fist before smacking the red Stunner bolt to the side. Savage and the witches behind him all gasped as they saw the impossible occur.

Taking a second to take in the cloaked figure, Savage saw that the man was in fact a rather large boy. Or at least that was the stature of the boy he could make out, not quite tall enough to be a man just yet, but certainly bulky enough to be a male. With his cloak's hood up, seeing the boy's face was very difficult but he could make out his savagely grinning chin and a few locks of long blonde hair. Underneath the travel worn cloak, he could see that the boy was dressed in some kind of far eastern white robe with bold yellow edgings and broad stripes down his tan pants.

"Wh-Who are y-you?!" Auror Dawlish demanded as he and a group of Aurors came running forward, wands all drawn and aimed at the cloaked boy who was blocking the stairway's entrance.

"Heheheheh," the boy chuckled in a rather deep voice as he turned to face the crowd, but still keeping Savage within his peripheral. "I'm the Saiyan, old boys! And I'm sorry to say that none of you are permitted to interfere just yet."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Dawlish snapped. Though if he meant the 'Saiyan' name or the lack of permission, the boy didn't know or care. "Move aside, or we'll be forced to make you! This is _Ministry of Magic_ business, boy!"

" _No_ , it's _not,"_ the Saiyan snapped, his voice and stance changing instantly from jovial to guarded, even threatening. "This is _Triwizard Tournament_ business. The Ministry, whether British, French, or Russian, has no say in it. You'll just have to wait until the officials declare a victor before you can go rushing in. That is the most _basic_ rule of the Tournament! And since you're _not_ abiding it like the lawmen you're _supposed_ to be, _I'm_ stepping forward to ensure it!"

"You asked for it then, boy!" Dawlish drawled, whipping his wand forward.

"No, stop! Wai—!" Savage tried to yell, tried to stop Dawlish and the other seven Aurors from attacking. But it was too late.

The cloaked boy merely crouched slightly before giving a mighty leap, sailing five meters over the spot he'd formerly stood, easily dodging the eight spells that'd been fired at him. All of them, even Savage, gaped in disbelief as they watched the impossible feat of physical might take place. Then they gaped even more when they realized that the boy wasn't descending back towards the earth, merely hovering there in midair as though he were riding a broom.

"Tell me," the Saiyan called out, ignoring their gaping faces and gasps of impossibility. "Is it standard Auror procedure to attack first, ask questions later?" He waited for half a second before holding out one of his hands towards the group as a ball of light suddenly ignited from his palm and between his fingers. The light in his palm somewhat helped illuminate the boy's face, exposing the somewhat sinister grin he was now wearing. "Now _that_ is a philosophy I can agree with!"

With that declaration, he launched the ball of light into the midst of the Aurors. Though not knowing what that magic light could do, all of the Aurors were smart enough to try and dodge or erect Shield Charms to protect themselves. The ball sailed down towards them and then promptly exploded against one of the raised shields with a powerful concussive force, quite similar to a Blasting Hex but with a lot more light involved. The power of the explosion was more than enough to blast the shield to pieces. All the Aurors, even those with Shield Charms, were sent tumbling through the air, landing in awkward positions and groaning or crying out in pain.

Even as the boy started laughing at the damage he'd caused, more arriving Aurors and random nearby spectators started throwing their own spells towards the boy. Displaying a totally mind-blowing control and experience, he started dodging and swerving and counterattacking while within the air with an ease that was as daunting as it was humbling. "Come _on_ , guys!" he cried as he rolled over a trio of spells, his cloak's hood falling to his shoulders and revealing his grinning blonde face to the world. "You can do better than _this_ , _can't_ you?!"

Needless to say, the Auror reinforcements had been quite well distracted and stalled.

* * *

"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?!" the thunderous voice of Albus Dumbledore bellowed, enhanced many times by the Sonorous Charm. The elderly wizard, along with his fellow Headmasters Karkaroff and Maxime, came running through the incinerated opening that the Salamander's breath attack had left behind.

As the three Champions looked towards the source of the voice, hope alighting their faces, the dark-haired boy couldn't help crying out in pain as he reached to cover his sensitive ears against the old man's voice. He spun away from the noise, cradling his head protectively. Once the echoing bellows and ringing in his ears had subsided somewhat, he turned slightly and squinted through his pain to glare heatedly over at the trio of approaching Headmasters.

" _My ears!_ " he cried out, sounding like he was genuinely in pain, which caused the three Champions to turn and stare at him in surprise. " _I think they're_ _ **bleeding**_ _! What's your problem, you_ _ **shriveled**_ _up, old_ _ **asswipe**_ _!_ "

" _ **SILENCE!**_ " Karkaroff bellowed himself, causing the boy to cringe away again. " _YOU'RE IN_ _ **EXTREME**_ _TROUBLE, BOY! WHO THE_ _ **FU**_ _—_ "

"Karkaroff!" Dumbledore snapped, turning a hard gaze on the younger man. Once the man had quieted down, though still glaring alternately between Dumbledore and the Salamander, the old Headmaster moved forward towards Cedric. This action was mirrored Maxime and Karkaroff, who also came forward to examine their respective Champions for any injuries they may have sustained. Despite all of the fires and attacks that he'd been forced to endure, Cedric was largely unhurt even if he was still missing his wand, much to Dumbledore's relief. "You injured, Mr. Diggory?"

"No, sir," Cedric answered immediately, relief obvious in his voice as his Headmaster placed himself between him and the fire boy. Pointing past him, Cedric gestured towards the Salamander, who was finally starting to recover his hearing and confidence again. "But that kid, he calls himself 'the Salamander', has the Trophy! He said something about challenging us because this is a tournament and he…wants to have 'fun'. Do you know who he is, sir?"

Glancing over his shoulder at the boy's hunched back, the old man evaluated the young boy with a critical eye. He could instantly see the prominent muscles exposed on the boy's arms and some kind of strange emblem on the back of his shirt, which he couldn't quite make out in the wavering firelight surrounding them. He did not know this boy and yet…something about those spiky black locks of hair tugged at his memory. Something familiar…something from the past…

"No… I can't say that I do," Dumbledore said slowly, hesitantly. Then the boy straightened up and spun around, green eyes blazing in a strange mixture of excitement, anger, and annoyance. Upon seeing the boy's face, Dumbledore felt the blood in his veins freeze as his face whitened in shock, eyes wide.

"So, you old guys want a piece of me too, huh?" the boy shouted, fires instantly igniting within his hands as he dropped into a fighting stance again. "BRING IT ON!"

With a fiery explosion from the souls of his feet, Harry Potter launched himself straight towards the closest of the new arrivals with a loud battle cry.

* * *

( **Author's Note** ) I know that many of you are probably quite annoyed by my doing this. But my muse has been driving me in this direction lately. The primary source of that inspiration comes from the story " _Dance of the Fairies, Flight of the Phoenix_ " by **Fergus Flamacron.** It's a truly incredible masterpiece that I cannot recommend strongly enough! If you haven't already, go read it!

And since I _KNOW_ that a lot of people are going to be getting own my case about this in the future, I'm just going to come out and say it right here and now. I am drawing a lot of inspiration and ideas for this story's plotline from **Araceil** 's _Fairy Tail_ and **Fiori57** 's _Harry Potter and the Oriental Philosophy_. I have already gotten each author's respective permissions to borrow from them. That's not to say that I'm ripping them off, but you veteran readers will probably notice a lot of similarities as the story progresses.


	2. Feats of Impossibility

**The Magic Revolution**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
 _#02: Feats of Impossibility_

 **June 24, 2015**

Draco Malfoy could only stare in awe and bewilderment at what he was seeing. As a highly-educated wizard of a very pure magical lineage and very proficient in most of the magical disciplines and practices of the world, he felt that he had a better understanding than most other wizards and witches about the limitations and possibilities of magic available. Yet what he saw now utterly blew away everything he'd learned, studied, and been raised to believe was possible! He was so enraptured by what he was seeing that he failed to notice that he was one of the few Slytherins still remaining in his seat.

From his position in one of the tower stands, he had a better view than most of the rest of the students to what was happening in the Maze. Such was the luxury that his family's wealth and his father's position afforded him and his select group of friends. Along with the misty vision spell that allowed the spectators to watch the Champions, Draco had also brought with him a pair of omnioculars so he could zoom in and record certain parts of the Task that interested him. For most of the task, he'd just watched the spell screen with passing interest, spending more time 'socializing' with his friends since there really wasn't anything very exciting happening down there. But as the Champions had neared the center of the Maze and what looked to be a race to the finish had started, he'd quickly pulled out his omnioculars and started recording. With the enhanced sight afforded to him by the magical artifact, Draco found himself swept up rapidly in the mystery of the cloaked stranger. He was literally sitting upon the edge of his seat with even more excitement coursing through him than when he'd watched the Quidditch World Cup last summer.

And now he watched as the three Headmasters finally arrived to confront the overwhelmingly powerful intruder. It was a curious sight to be sure. The black-haired fire boy had quickly crumpled to his knees, holding his ears tightly in pain, when the Headmasters had started yelling at him with Sonorous-enhanced voices. Why was that? Did he have sensitive hearing or something? But the boy was quick to stand back up and attack again once the yelling had died down, shooting forward and nailing Karkaroff in the gut with a flaming fist. This was the first time that Draco had seen him actually land a punch on anyone. But considering the large crater he'd made earlier when he'd missed his first punch against the Champions, it didn't surprise Draco when he saw the Durmstrang headmaster go flying at least ten meters in a fiery explosion. And with that, the battle reignited with a frenzy.

However, instead of the three Triwizard Champions ganging up on the lone stranger, it was the three Headmasters. Madam Maxime instantly went on the offensive, favoring curses and charms. Dumbledore seemed more concerned with defense, watching and studying the black-haired boy's movements and fire magic abilities. Karkaroff was slow to join the battle, considering how far he'd been thrown and having lost his breath in the process. The three Champions had wisely decided to scurry off and watch from the sidelines, trying to catch their breaths and rest their exhausted bodies.

The amount of magic being used was nothing short of incredible. Each of the Headmasters, alone, seemed capable of unleashing the same output of power and variety that all of the three Champions had achieved when working in concert together. That wasn't even taking into account their decades' more experience with magic and battle alike. Thus, it would've been more accurate to say that the fire boy wasn't fighting just three people, but more than a dozen compacted into the three of them. And the fact that he was still able to either dodge, counter, or otherwise negate all their attacks with nothing more than some fancy fire tricks and physical acrobatics made the battle seem exceedingly more exciting and awe-inspiring than the entirety of the Triwizard Tournament had been up to this point.

The fire boy was currently flying upside-down through the air, having been blasted by a Banishing Hex from Maxime. Rather than be intimidated or scared, he merely went with the blow, fire blasting from his heels. The giant woman frantically ducked under the arcing fires that shot towards her, just barely dodging them. At the same time, the fires pushed the boy right-side up and he landed in a crouching slide, one hand digging a trail in the soft dirt under him to quickly slow himself down. Once he stopped, he leapt back up into the air, arms spread out at his sides as long trails of fire sprung out of them, sweeping up behind him almost like wings. He quickly swept his arms forward and swung the conflagration down towards where Maxime and Dumbledore were currently hunkered down.

The Hogwarts Headmaster swung his wand about, summoning up huge amounts of earth and dirt from around them and forming it into a very thick shield. This seemed to do the trick as the fires struck and exploded against the dirt wall, but didn't penetrate or otherwise damage the earthen protection from Draco's perspective. As the boy landed once again, he quickly ducked low, narrowly evading what Draco recognized as a Dark cutting curse from Karkaroff. As the boy raised himself up, his cheeks bulged comically before he once again blasted an inferno from his mouth straight towards the Durmstrang Headmaster, incinerating yet another path through the charred remains of the Maze. Unable to Apparate to safety and not possessing the youthful dexterity that Krum had used to dodge the same attack, Karkaroff dropped to a knee and created a large metal shield in front of himself. The shield was only partially successful at blocking the fires, preventing the full brunt from hitting the man but still allowing some to slip around the edges and hit the man nonetheless.

Once the massive flame attack ended a few moments later, Draco turned his attention back to the boy and blinked in surprise. He was panting, _panting!_ Was he _finally_ starting to tire out?! "I guess all those huge fire attacks eat up a lot of his magical power," Draco muttered to himself.

"Apparently," a distracted female voice uttered in agreement nearby, catching Draco by surprise. He glanced over quickly towards the voice, finding it to belong to none other than the Ice Queen of Slytherin herself, Daphne Greengrass. Daphne ignored him, keeping her gaze locked on the combat below. "Looks like the Headmasters are about to wrap this up now…assuming the other kid doesn't interfere."

"Huh? What 'other boy'?" Draco asked, confused.

"The flying one, who's battling the Aurors," Daphne said as if it was obvious, while pointing toward commotion in the lower stands. Draco's eyes fell upon the figure silhouetted in yellow, and immediately was torn. On the one hand, he had the battle between the _Great_ Albus Dumbledore, his father's old comrade Igor Karkaroff, and the _admittedly_ talented half-breed against a wizard whose talent over fire was unheard of. On the other hand, he had the larger scale battle between yet another impossibility: a broom-less flyer who was batting away what spell bolts he couldn't dodge, _with his bare hands_ , and when he wasn't doing that he was _wandlessly_ returning fire with his own spell bolts. Sure, the battle against the headmasters was almost over, but he had already watched it this far.

As his eyes darted back and forth between the two awe inspiring battles, he noticed the pair of omnioculars clutched in Daphne's hands that were still trained towards the fight with the flying boy, just as his had stayed trained on the center of the maze. Noticing his gaze, the Ice Queen smirked, before offering him a deal. "A copy of your recording, for a copy of mine."

"Deal." Draco nodded before turning his full attention back to the Headmasters fight.

Zooming out slightly, Draco watched as the Dumbledore and Maxime seemed to be trying to speak with the boy, probably trying to reason with him. But movement off to the side caught Draco's attention. Karkaroff was up to something. Then, suddenly and quite menacingly, a massive flare of fire erupted from Karkaroff's wand. Draco literally flinched back in shock and fear as he watched the cursed flames of Ignis Pugnator emerge. The Ignis Pugnator was often compared to as being the exact opposite of the Patronus Charm, in that it was fueled by a person's hate, and that once cast, the fires would take the shape of an animal unique to the user. The spell was just a few degrees lower than Fiendfyre in how dangerous it was. One of the primary differences being that this spell would only stop after it'd either been extinguished or incinerated the user's target. And since no two versions of the spell were ever the same, no two tactics for fighting against the spell would ever truly be effective against it.

"That idiot!" Draco snapped as he watched take the fires form into the shape of a large burning vulture. "What was he thinking?! That level of curse is too dangerous for this!"

"I don't think he was thinking," Daphne stated in a slight deadpan voice, her attention understandably drawn to the Headmaster fight. "Neither of them."

Screams of terror from the remaining audience and a few nearby Aurors started up as they all recoiled away from the fires. Even Dumbledore and Maxime looked rather annoyed and nervous, respectively, considering they were the next closest to the fires and were completely unprepared to deal with fires of that caliber. Everyone was scared…except the fire boy.

The fire boy merely turned to watch as the cursed fires of hell latched their sinister, all-encompassing gaze upon him and came charging at him with all the speed of a Nimbus 2000 and the ferocity of a demon. Draco could only assume the boy was frozen in terror, not that he could really blame him, mind you. The boy didn't move an inch as the burning vulture crashed into him and promptly exploded like a small volcanic eruption.

"Now we'll never know who he wa—What's that?" Draco said, his eyes widening as he spotted something strange happening. Rather than spread and grow like they normally would following a death inside them, there seemed to be…a spiral suction forming inside the inferno. It was like the fires were being drawn down into a sink drain like water. The longer it went on, the faster the flames disappeared. Everyone, even the panicking audience, quickly came to a stop as they watched yet another impossibility take place before them. Then, slowly, a silhouette began to emerge from the dead center of the flames. As the flames vanished away, it became increasingly clear what was happening.

"H-H-He's _eating_ them?!" Draco sputtered out, completely dumbfounded. "He's _**eating**_ _the_ _ **fire**_ _?! HOW'S THAT_ _ **POSSIBLE**_ _?!_ "

Then, abruptly, the last of the fires were gone, sucked down into the boy's mouth. A moment of total silence fell across the area as everyone stared at the boy while he idly wiped his mouth. Looking around seeing that he'd gotten everyone's attention, a wide grin spread across the boy's face. Banging his fists together as flames erupted around his body like an aura, he laughed out loud, " _ **I'm all FIRED UP!**_ "

Bringing his hands up, an enormous fireball formed between his hands at nearly double the speed the previous ones had been. He quickly leapt up and lobbed the fireball down towards Karkaroff again, laughing quite loudly as the Durmstrang struggled to move away. Time slowed down as Draco watched the next few moments. A burst of light flew from Dumbledore's wand, shooting into the air and striking an invisible barrier, which almost immediately seemed to disintegrate. By the time the barrier had fully vanished, the fireball was nearly upon Karkaroff when he suddenly disappeared, finally being able to Apparate to safety. It was only thanks to the angle that Draco was at that he even was able to see Karkaroff teleport away before the fireball struck where he had been and instantly exploded with enough power to rock the tower they were seated in.

Momentarily being knocked from his seat because of the swaying tower, Draco quickly climbed to his feet and leaned heavily upon the railing, fumbling to bring his omnioculars back to his face. Quickly searching the grounds, he managed to find the boy just a few moments before Karkaroff suddenly reappeared. The former Death Eater reappeared less than an arm's length away from the boy, surprising both the fire boy and Draco at the abruptness of the unexpected action. That surprise was all that Karkaroff needed to jab his wandtip forward, right into the boy's mouth, and blast what must've been an _enormously_ -overpowered lightning bolt straight down the boy's throat. The boy's stomach quite obviously ballooned outwards for a moment as the lightning filled his gut before returning to its normal shape.

Rather than laugh off the attack like he had when he'd eaten the flames earlier, the fire boy recoiled away from Karkaroff. His hands instantly shot up to his mouth and neck, trying to cradle the agony that was coursing through his throat, even as he gagged and stumbled away, falling gracelessly to the ground at Karkaroff's feet. And he remained there, convulsing violently as a few stray bolts of lightning began jolting and zapping along his limbs, crying out in absolutely agony as though he were being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse.

"He can eat something as dangerous as Ignis Pugnator and grin about it," Draco murmured in disbelief. "But he's crippled when someone feeds him lightning? Weird."

"Well, that seems…anticlimactic," Daphne stated in agreement, her attention still fixated on the fire boy. Draco could clearly hear the disappointment in her voice.

"I don't think it's over just yet," Draco replied evenly, watching as Dumbledore and Maxime rapidly made their way over to Karkaroff and the boy. "Remember, there's still the other kid out there."

As if summoned by the Malfoy heir, a bolt of bright yellow light flew from one side of the stadium to slam into Karkaroff's exposed backside and send him tumbling. Half a second and blinding streak of light later, the flying blonde boy was crouched over the convulsing form of his partner, examining him and his symptoms. Zooming in with his omnioculars, Draco watched as the hugely-muscular blonde teenager stood up and abruptly stomped down on the fire boy's stomach, causing the boy to gasp out in pain from the blow.

"Why did he do that?" Draco wondered quietly to himself.

But even as he was saying it, Draco saw the reason why. As soon as the blonde removed his foot, the dark-haired boy seemed to snap out of the whatever pain-induced deliria he'd been stuck in. He quickly but clumsily picked himself up and climbed to his feet, settling into what even martial arts-ignorant Draco Malfoy could see as being a _very_ sloppy fighting stance. The reason for the poor stance was made clear as there were still random bolts of electricity and severe nerve-twitches that shot through his limbs, but now the fire boy seemed able to somewhat ignore them. ' _I see_ ,' Draco realized. ' _The blonde snapped him out of his funk by giving him some new pain to focus on so he could ignore whatever the lightning is doing to him internally_.'

"Are they seriously still willing to keep fighting when one of them is handicapped like that?" Daphne asked, more to herself than Draco. Fire ignited around the dark-haired boy while a golden aura of yellow light sprung to life around the blonde boy as they both crouched before launching themselves towards the Headmasters once again.

"Apparently so," Draco said in a deadpan voice, even as he watched the blonde strike Karkaroff with a high kick to the chest, knocking him flying backwards.

The fire boy thrust his arm forward and launched a pillar of flames towards Dumbledore, which the old man easily Apparated away from, reappearing several meters to the side. Spinning on his heel, fire burst from the boy's feet as he leapt towards the headmaster. But even as he was doing that, electricity jolted across his legs and knees, knocking him off balance and sending him flying slightly off target without Dumbledore even having to move to dodge. As the boy landed awkwardly on his feet, looking like he was just a soft breeze away from tripping and fall over, Dumbledore saw his chance and leapt on it. Chains flew from his wandtip and wrapped themselves around the fire boy's body tightly. Had Draco blinked, he would've missed it, it was _that_ quick. While the boy struggled for freedom and his balance, Dumbledore finally was able to strike him dead on with a Stunner that sent him tumbling through the air from the sheer force of it. But even as he landed, Draco blinked in surprise as he saw that the boy was still somehow conscious and struggling to escape, even if his movements were slowed and sluggish now. There was an obvious moment of hesitation from Dumbledore as he too stared at the boy with surprise at the feat of still being conscious. But the old man recovered himself quickly and sent another Stunner at him. This time knocking the boy out for sure.

Quickly shifting his attention, Draco saw that blonde boy freeze in mid-punch from where he was floating off the ground about to deliver pain to that large eye sore of a half-breed woman. The blonde looked over to the side in time to see his partner in crime crumple to the ground unconscious. Call her what you will, but the half-giant didn't miss a beat as she jumped away from the startlingly fast and strong boy, aiming her wand to launch her own counterattack before he recovered from his surprise. But even as the spell left her wand, the blonde had already flown away, landing in a slight slide next to his friend, trying to wake him up.

"It's useless," Draco murmured knowingly. "Unless you got some kind of fancy wandless magic that awakens the stunned, he's not going to get up any time soon." The blonde seemed to realize this quickly, setting his friend back down on the ground with surprising gentleness.

 _Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!_

A multitude of Apparation cracks filled the air as the entire interior of the former Quidditch stadium was suddenly host to what must've been thousands of Aurors. Draco could tell they were Aurors because of the maroon robes they all wore, even if the national emblems on them were different. The sudden noise and appearances seemed to have spooked the blonde boy, who'd instantly shot upwards into the air in a blaze of yellow light. He came a halt and hovered in place some fifty meters over the new arrivals, arms crossed and glaring down at them like a warrior who was displeased to have his fight interrupted.

"WHAT WILL YOU DO NOW, BOY?" Dumbledore asked, his voice Sonorous-enhanced once more as he and all of the others looked up at the flying boy. "WE HAVE YOUR FRIEND AND YOU ARE NOW GREATLY OUTNUMBERED."

" _Ha! Hahaha! HAHAHAHAHA!_ " the boy laughed, starting softly but rapidly growing in volume. He threw his head back as he started giving full-belly laughs at Dumbledore's statement. Though he couldn't be sure, Draco felt that he had an idea of what the boy found amusing. " _ **BWAHAHAHAHA**_ _ **HAHAHA**_ _HAHAHAHahahahah!_ …I haven't laughed _that hard_ since that time in Brazil." Draco only heard that last part because he was a fair bit closer than any of the others down below.

"SOMETHING AMUSING, BOY?" Dumbledore asked, asking the question that most of the Aurors were thinking as they glared up at him.

"That you all seem to think that you can _stop_ me from doing _anything_!" the blonde called back. "I'm the single most powerful warrior in all the world! _No one_ but the _Salamander_ can _challenge me anymore!_ And you lot think that because you can wave _little pieces of wood while chanting gibberish that you can tell me what to do?! I have fought DRAGONS, GIANTS, MANTICORES, HORDES OF RABID MOBS, AND EVEN AN_ _ **ENTIRE ARMY**_ _OF MUGGLES! AND YOU_ _ **THREE THOUSAND**_ _LITTLE WIZARDS, WHO_ _ **COWER**_ _BEHIND SPELLS OF_ _ **CONFUSION, CONCEALMENT**_ _, AND INDUCED_ ** _AMNESIA_** _THINK YOU CAN SCARE_ _ **ME**_ _ENOUGH TO_ _ **BACK DOWN?!**_ "

As he was yelling, the blonde had raised one of his arms over his head. A ball of light formed over his hand, rapidly growing in size until it must've been large enough to fit an entire house inside. The light it was giving off was bright to the point of blinding, lighting up the area like a miniature sun, as waves of ambient energy washed off it. Every single wizard and witch present could _feel_ the energy contained within that massive orb. It was so strong, it was palpable. The amount of destructive potential that orb contained would've easily been enough to completely obliterate the entire Quidditch stadium, the cliff, and the nearby Hogwarts castle. And _every single_ person present _knew_ it.

"Now, tell me again," the blonde's surprisingly soft voice called down, no longer threatening but still hinting towards violence. " _Who_ is _outnumbered_ here?"

"YOU WOULDN'T THROW THAT ORB!" one of the Aurors with a heavy Germanic accent shouted. "YOU'D KILL YOUR FRIEND HERE!"

"HAHAHA!" the blonde laughed, robbing the Aurors of whatever sliver of courage they might've retained. "The Salamander takes blows of _this_ caliber _daily!_ You should worry more about _yourselves_!"

Just then, a plume of fire burst out of the center of the Aurors, attracting everyone's attention and causing those nearest it to back away in surprise. What they revealed as they did so was the fire boy, awake but clearly delirious again. ' _What is that guy made of?!_ ' Draco wondered in amazement. He'd taken _two_ Stunners from _Albus Dumbledore_ himself and still managed to awaken after only a few moments?! Who _was_ this kid? Who were _both_ of these guys?! Seeing the boy staring up at the blonde and trying to call out to him, one of the Auror witches cautiously stepped forward and pressed her wand to the boy's throat.

"PIC…CO…LO…" the boy drawled out, earning a snarling grimace from the blonde. "REMEM…BER…WHY WE…HERE…" With that said, he slumped back towards the ground as the pink-haired witch caught him in her arms. He had once again seemingly fallen back into unconsciousness.

After a long moment of confusion by the Aurors and silent glaring from the blonde, the massive orb he held began to shrink as its energy slowly dissipated. Once it fully disappeared, the blonde slowly lowered himself back down to the ground next to his friend, causing the witch to back away cautiously. Once firmly on the ground, the blonde held up his hands and shouted out, "WE SURRENDER!"

* * *

( **Author's Note** ) Big time shout-out to **badassumbreon** and **Fiori57** for helping me brainstorm and beta-ing this chapter. I wonder how many of you guys saw this little twist at the end coming? Not many, hopefully! And though I'm sure that many of you are confused and curious as to what Harry and Dudley (yes, the 'Saiyan' is Dudley Dursley) are doing and why, just be patient for a little longer. If not in the _coming_ chapter, the boys will be answering a lot of questions in the next one for sure. Just be patient, ok?

 **Ignis Pugnator** – _Fire Warrior_ / / The Ignis Pugnator is considered Dark magic curse spell. It is ranked just a few tiers below the lethality and power of Fiendfyre. But what makes the Ignis Pugnator so deadly isn't the amount of power it has, but the fact that every person who casts it always got a different and unique 'creature' to manifest and attack the enemies of the conjurer. This has led to wizards comparing this spell as a Dark version of the happiness-fueled Patronus Charm. Dispelling this curse is no easy feat for most witches and wizards. Most times, the quickest and easiest means of doing so is drowning it in high quantities of water or burying it under dirt and rubble.


	3. The Misadventures of the Salamander and

**The Magic Revolution**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
 _#03: The Misadventures of the Salamander and the Saiyan_

 **June 25, 2015  
Hogwarts**

It was a long night, for everyone.

Madam Pomfrey had her hands full dealing with the various injuries taken by the Champions, the Headmasters, nearly two dozen Aurors, and more than few of the audience who'd somehow gotten too close to the action when it started. Granted, most of these injuries were superfluous, amounting to little more than minor burns and scratches. Karkaroff and Krum had gotten the worst of the punishment. Karkaroff was plainly hurt by continually getting assaulted, burned, and struck by the fire boy, whereas Krum had largely been hurt from his fight with the sphinx earlier in the night. On the other hand, the Aurors were practically beaten black and blue with prominent bruises and several broken bones from the flying boy. Those were more tedious injuries to heal up, but scarcely took more than a few minutes for the skilled Madam Pomfrey to deal with.

The Aurors who'd arrived at the climax of the battle wound up being little more than a grossly overzealous police force. Most of them just hung around the Quidditch stadium, throwing up spells and wards to keep any and all unwanted people from entering or (especially) leaving. Almost immediately, the clash of jurisdictions came into play. There were seven prominent groups of Aurors from as many different countries gathered there, all of them reacting to the emergency calls that their respective Ministers or officials present at the Tournament had sent. Thus all of them tried to claim jurisdiction over the so-called 'Salamander' and 'Say-yam-jarmin' or whatever the blonde boy called himself. But because the boys had essentially surrendered to _all_ of them simultaneously, it caused more than a little confusion over who got final say in who claimed 'ownership', so to speak. Although, Head Auror Scrimegour's stance of them being on British soil and on Hogwarts' grounds during the surrender did lend substantially more substance than the other Head Aurors had going for them at the moment. Suffice to say, the group's argument was quickly brought to the attention of their superiors, who took it up amongst themselves.

Of the Ministry officials present, only the actual Ministers of Magic for Britain, France, and Russia had actually been in attendance, as decorum for the Tournament laws demanded. The grounds of them being potential targets and in danger, and thus having priority over the boys' sentencing, gave them more credence than the other four countries involved since they had only sent token officials to represent themselves at such an international event. But, following the emergency, the Ministers of Magic of Spain, Germany, Norway, and Italy had quickly gotten involved, wanting to see the boys responsible and get in on the action as well.

Many families had come flocking to Hogwarts as soon as news of the attack reached them in the following hours. Frantic parents, aunts and uncles and grandparents, even a few older siblings had come to castle, seeking out news of the children, desperate to make sure they had suffered no harm. Many families had taken their children and outright fled the castle, not wishing to have their precious ones so close to the danger that still very close by. Other families and even more than a few who had no dealings with the school were braver, renting rooms in the Three Broomsticks or staking tents up in the surrounding lands of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. Most of these people were just wanting to witness the unprecedented events take place firsthand. Very quickly, there was an enormous 'Tent City' that was literally overflowing with several tens of thousands of witches and wizards of the various countries from all over Europe.

As is typical whenever there was such a big event taking place, reporters and journalists quickly flooded into the area, hiding among the sea of parents, Aurors, and spectators, seeking to find the source of the events. Some reporters were better skilled, better equipped, more persuasive, or just amoral enough to get what they wanted than the others. This included most especially the biggest gossip of them all, Rita Skeeter. With her special ability to sneak around unnoticed, she had gotten closer to most of the Ministers, lead Aurors, and even the boys themselves than any of her competition, but she still couldn't penetrate the innumerable protections the many Aurors had thrown up around the stadium interior itself.

For Headmaster Dumbledore, he had tried to spend as much of his time in the late evening trying to speak with either the black-haired boy and his companion. However, he had quickly been forced to leave when the various Ministries had started getting together. This incident was rapidly turning into a true nightmare of international relations breakdown. And the worst part was that he couldn't do anything about it but watch as it all happened in front of him.

"I should be out there, helping," he muttered very quietly to himself.

"Nothing you can do about it right now, old man," Alastor grumbled next to him, his magical eye practically spinning like a top as he tried to watch everything happening around himself. "You're not the Supreme Mugwump anymore, Malfoy is. Get over it already!"

Dumbledore glanced over at his old friend with a prominent frown on his face, but said nothing. Alastor was correct after all. As the old saying goes, don't cry over spilled milk and water under the bridge. He hadn't been Supreme Mugwump for two years now, and that was unlikely to change any time soon. But given the present situation, in his own humble opinion, Dumbledore felt that he would've been able to handle the situation with much more grace and much less effort that what he could see Lucius dealing with from where he currently watched the proceedings. Perhaps the only positive thing about this whole situation was that he wasn't forced to entirely leave the premises, due in large part to him being the Headmaster of Cedric, having fought against the 'Salamander' as he called himself, and helped negotiate the 'Say-jin's surrender somewhat. This made him a priority witness in the coming trial that was due to take place in a few minutes.

Indeed, things had changed immensely inside the Quidditch pitch since the boys were captured. Along with the protections, a makeshift prison had been made in the center of the pitch that each of the boys were locked inside of at the moment. The burnt remains of the hedgerows had been cleared quickly and a podium was raised, upon which Lucius, the various Ministers, and Head Aurors stood upon having a heated conversation. The stands of the stadium had been more or less the same, just filled to the brim with all manners of Ministry officials from the various countries, reporters, Aurors, and several thousand spectators. This makeshift Wizengamot setting was a necessary step to take since the chamber in the Ministry back in London was far, _far_ too small to fit even the minimal number of people involved for such a proceeding. The noise level was absolutely deafening with so many thousands of people nearby and all having their own conversations simultaneously. Silencing Charms were not only necessary but God-sent blessings in this setting.

Dumbledore and Alastor were seated in the bottom row of the audience, in seats that were relatively close to one of the hastily constructed stairways down into the pitch. This place of privilege had been reserved for him in advance thanks to his part in the fighting and the necessary testimony he would have to give in the coming trial. Though how much of that trial actually was going to be legal was a very questionable subject to him, which he didn't favor the odds at all. Nearby him also sat the three Champions and the other two Headmasters, all having received a clean bill of health earlier this morning, despite Karkaroff still wearing bandages over his side and along his jaw.

"It's starting," Madam Maxime said quietly, drawing Dumbledore out of his musings.

The group watched as the various officials quickly took their seats up in the audience as more than four dozen Aurors of multiple countries escorted each of the chained and Silenced boys forward. As they drew closer, Dumbledore couldn't help but stare at the fire boy intently. Even from the distance, Harry's features were noticeably sickly, pale and sweating heavily, random flashes of lightning jolting across his limbs that would momentarily cause him to stumble or freeze. But despite that, his face showed little more than annoyance towards the Aurors around them, with only small twinges of pain glancing off his face to show that he really was in pain. By contrast, the blonde boy was practically strutting with total confidence and defiance in his gaze, completely unconcerned with how much trouble he was in.

Once the two boys had reached the center of the podium, a pair of chairs materialized behind them and they were forcefully made to sit in them. Yet more heavy chains sprung to life, wrapping around them and tightly binding the boys to their respective chairs, though neither of them showed anything beyond annoyance at that. Just before they stepped back to stand in a ring around the boys, in a show of force that they couldn't escape, two of the Aurors cancelled the Silencing Charms of the boys, allowing them to actively speak out once again.

"CRIMINAL HEARING OF THE TWENTY-FIFTH OF JUNE," Lucius Malfoy said, his voice enhanced with the Sonorous so the entire stadium could hear him, superiority and condescension practically dripping from his words. Next to him, Percy Weasley and multiple other scribes began taking notes. "INTO THE OFFENSES COMMITTED UNDER THE DECREE OF THE REASONABLE RESTRICTION OF UNDERAGE SORCERY AND THE INTERNTIONAL STATUE OF SECRECY BY—" Here Malfoy actually had to pause as he realized something that he and the others had forgotten in their haste to set everything up. With a hint of embarrassment showing on his face for missing this critical piece of information, he continued, looking down towards the boys. "WHAT ARE YOUR NAMES FOR THE RECORD, BOYS?"

"I'm Dudley the Saiyan!" the blonde boy answered easily.

"I'm Harry the Salamander!" Harry answered just as easily.

Their answers gave Dumbledore a lot to think on as Lucius began the long process of identifying all of the various Ministers, interrogators, defendants, and court scribes present. Dumbledore was aware that Harry's cousin was named Dudley Dursley, so that must be who he really was. Prior to now, the elder wizard hadn't put much more importance in the boy beyond being Harry's relative. He wasn't magical and his parents had shown a very potent dislike of all things magical that they most assuredly must've tried to pass onto their son. But, after everything he'd seen the boy do last night, was it possible that they'd somehow been wrong? Could the boy simply have been a low-powered Squib the whole time instead? Or, Lord forbid, some new type of Obscurial? That'd certainly explain how he clearly possessed some type of magical power, even if even _he_ didn't know what it was. And Dumbledore couldn't help raising his brow at how Harry named himself. He didn't introduce himself as 'Harry Potter'? Why was that? Was he unaware of who he really was? But he was clearly familiar with the Wizarding World, so he must know of his fame…right? But…if not, how could that possibly be?!

"AND THE CHARGES AGAINST THE BOYS, HARRY AND DUDLEY," Lucius said, having finally completed the long list. Holding his hand up to the side, he waited as one of the scribes handed over to him a large scroll of parchment. It was so large and heavy that its weight momentarily caught Lucius by surprise, nearly dropping it, before he recovered. This act brought amusement to many of those watching, but Dumbledore frowned as he eyed the scroll. Even with as many charges as the various ministries could've conjured against the boys for interrupting the tournament, it still shouldn't have been enough to cause that much of a reaction by Lucius. Something strange was happening there.

Rather than begin reading the charges aloud as was proper etiquette of a Supreme Mugwump, Lucius spent a long few moments scrolling them silently, eyes progressively widening with each incident he came across. This action did not go unnoticed by any of the audience of spectators or politicians, causing soft muttered conversations to start up here and there. Then, after a few such moments, Dumbledore watched as the blonde man's eyes narrowed as he noticed something on the scroll. Whatever he saw caused him to start looking more closely at several of the earlier sections on the scroll.

Looking up suddenly, Lucius said, "ARE YOU TWO ALSO KNOWN UNDER THE ALIASES OF THE TWIN CALAMITIES?" What surprised him the most was that he had heard of some of these instances over the last couple years. But had thought them the work of many, rather than the acts of two clearly insane individuals. And that was just the section of what the scroll had dedicated to Russia!

"I think the Russian Aurors did call us _something_ like that while they were trying to arrest us back in January, yes?" Harry answered with a pleasant smile, clearly remembering one of those incidents.

"AND YOU ARE ALSO KNOWN AS THE PYROCLASM AND NUKE?" he asked after glancing at another portion of the scroll. Lucius wished that such things could be simpler. But the MACUSA apparently hated these two as the _actual_ titles had been 'Those Damn Runts Pyroclasm and Nuke'.

"America," Dudley nodded, thoroughly pleased at the comparison to himself.

"…THOSE FUCKERS?" Lucius was thoroughly shocked as apparently Italy hated them just as much, if not more than America did.

"Italy," both of them chimed, their smiles unrepentant and amused at some joke only they knew of.

"MR. MALFOY," the German Minister interrupted impatiently. "COULD YOU PLEASE RETURN BACK TO THE SUBJECT OF REPORTING THEIR CRIMES?"

"Y-YES, OF COURSE, MINISTER," Lucius said, stumbling slightly as he quickly rewound back to the start of the scroll. "THE CRIMES OF THE SALAMANDER AND THE SA-JIN—"

"SAIYAN!" Dudley interrupted vehemently, glaring heatedly at Lucius.

"—SAIYAN," Lucius corrected. "ARE MANY AND DIVERSE. BUT, IN SUMMARY, INCLUDE REPEATEDLY KNOWINGLY, DELIBERATELY, AND IN FULL AWARENESS OF THE ILLEGALITY OF THEIR ACTIONS PERFORM FEATS OF _INTENSE_ MAGICAL PROWESS IN HEAVILY-POPULATED MUGGLE-INHABITED AREAS. EXAMPLES OF SUCH ACTIONS BEING AS FOLLOWS…" Here, he paused as he scanned down the scroll, searching for an action that he deemed was 'suitable' for the crowd.

"IN SEPTEMBER OF 2011, DID YOU TWO KNOWINGLY BREAK THE STATUTE OF SECRECY IN THE AIRPORT OF MOSCOW, RUSSIA, REVEALING MAGIC TO UPWARDS OF FOUR THOUSANDS MUGGLES?"

"A crazy Second Salemer had tracked us down and sent a _dragon_ after us!" Harry answered loudly. This statement earned gasps of surprise from most of the crowd, but looks of incomprehension from those who didn't know what the Second Salemers were and what they stood for, considering they were mainly based in America. "What were we supposed to do? Let it kill us and everyone else there? I'd put _that_ charge down as 'necessary self-defense' of ourselves and innocents around us." As much as many of those around them wanted to argue the point, none of them could really formulate a response that didn't have them sounding like anti-Muggle extremists.

"CONTINUING ON," Lucius said after just a moment's pause. "IN DECEMBER OF 2011, DID YOU USE OF BLATANT MAGIC IN A MUGGLE CIRCUS IN NAPLES, ITALY, WITNESSED BY NO LESS THAN FIVE HUNDRED MUGGLES?"

"Oh yeah, I remember that!" Dudley answered, grinning at the memory. "That was the time I learned to use my power to fly for the first time! Remember that, Harry?"

"How can I forget?" the Salamander grumbled while looking away from his cousin. "You only bring it up at every holiday dinner, or showing off to your adoring fans, or at every tournament we've ever been to since!"

"You're just jealous you can't fly!" Dudley chirped, grinning widely at the pouting Salamander.

"IT'S NOT FAIR!" Harry cried out, sounding and acting like an impetuous child. "I'M THE MAGICAL ONE! I SHOULD BE THE ONE TO BE ABLE TO FLY!"

"Awww, is the little baby crying again?" Dudley cooed, his grin somehow managing to widen in triumph.

" _ **ENOUGH!**_ " the Spanish Minister snapped, glaring hatefully down at them. "BACK TO THE _PROSECUTION_!"

"IN MARCH OF 2012, DID YOU BREAK THE STATUTE IN THE TOWN OF FRANKFURT, GERMANY, REVEALING MAGIC TO THREE HUNDRED MUGGLES?" Lucius read

"March, March, hmm..." Harry muttered, seemingly recovered from his pouting. Now his face was scrunched up in confusion. "Hey, Dud, do you remember what we were doing in March three years ago?"

"…Didn't we bust up a slave ring?" Dudley answered, his face equally contorted as he searched his memory.

"Yeah, that's right!" Harry said, his memory returning to him quickly. "Bunch'a Goblins working with some Pureblood fop using Muggles as slave labor. I got to fight another dragon and you blew up the war-boss!" The entire field went silent as they digested that incomprehensibly _bad_ news. And it was bad on more than a few levels!

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that guy." Dudley nodded as he remembered the war-boss. Who knew Goblins could get that _big_? "Hey, did we ever find that Pureblood bastard?"

"I think the dragon ate him when he tried to escape," Harry answered absentmindedly. "Hey, do we still have any of the rubies we pinched from 'em?"

"A couple, why?"

"Think we could bribe them to ignore this charge?" Harry asked, nodding towards the crowd who were gawking at the boys' sheer brazenness of contemplating such an action _right in front of them_.

Dudley gave the crowd a lazy glance before shaking his head. "Unlikely. You know how these types get when they're in positions of perceived power."

"Hm…" Harry hummed, glancing at the crowd as well. "A good point. Oh well, more for us!"

This time there was an obvious lag for Lucius as he tried to understand just how and why these boys could get into so much trouble and yet still act as though they weren't about to be sent to Azkaban or executed on the spot. Finally coming back to himself, Lucius glanced down at another section of the scroll. "IN OCTOBER OF 2012, DID YOU USE MAGIC IN DUBLIN, IRELAND, IN FRONT OF SIX HUNDRED MUGGLES, DURING A POLITICAL RALLY AT THE POLICE STATION?"

"I would hardly call that a 'rally'!" Dudley barked, glaring angrily. "We just broke up an attack that a few IRA extremists decided would be a good idea to do against the police force! It was a big scandal because they were trying to imprison the police in their own jail and take over the station, make themselves the new sheriffs. What a bunch'a idiots!"

"They _totally_ got what was coming to them!" Harry agreed, completely unrepentant, nodding his head decisively.

"APRIL OF 2013," Lucius continued, sounding somehow put out at the boys were able to justify each charge against them. "IN PARIS, FRANCE, DID YOU USE MAGIC IN FRONT OF TENS OF THOUSANDS OF MUGGLES WHEN YOU ERECTED…SOME _COLORFUL LANGUAGE_ AND SYMBOLS UPON THE IFFEL TOWER ITSELF AS 'DECORATIONS'?"

At that reminder, both boys glanced at one another as their faces suddenly lit up with prominent blushes of embarrassment, looking every bit the part of two teenagers caught with their pants down. Then they jerked their heads towards the other as they simultaneously shouted out, " _IT WAS_ _ **HIS**_ _IDEA!_ " They both turned to glare at each other immediately.

"It was _so_ your idea!" Harry yelled. "I _told you_ that drinking that stuff was cause _bad things_ to happen! But you _never_ _listen_ to me!"

"Don't blame this on _me_!" Dudley yelled back. " _I_ could handle the liquor _just fine!_ It was _you_ who wanted to _show off_ to some pretty French girl! _Remember!_ I know _I_ sure do! That _tight_ little ass and long blonde hair!"

"CHILDREN!" one of the officials yelled, bringing them back to the present, having recognized that this was a longstanding argument between the two that could go on for hours if left unchecked. Once their attentions had been drawn away from each other, the man continued, "YOU DO NOT DENY OR JUSTIFY THIS ACTION?"

"…It wasn't one of our best moments," Harry conceded, his head down in shame.

"Not as bad as Valencia," Dudley muttered, to which Harry nodded in complete agreement.

" _THAT LIST COULD TAKE_ _ **FOREVER**_ _!_ " Minister Fudge yelled, having become thoroughly fed up with the pair of them. "IT IS _BLATANTLY_ _CLEAR_ THAT THESE ARE TWO _SHAMELESS_ , ATTENTION-SEEKING _CRIMINALS_ WHO ARE GUILTY OF _REPEATED_ VIOLATIONS OF THE STATUTE OF SECRECY! SEND THEM TO AZKABAN AND LET'S BE _DONE_ WITH THIS FARCE ALREADY!"

"Wow, _that's_ the British Minister of Magic?" Dudley couldn't help saying, his remark easily catching everyone's attention. "I _pity_ the poor souls who work for you."

As Fudge looked to be working himself up into a right state of pure fury, the Spanish Minister spoke up again. "YOU BOYS ARE TOO MUCH TROUBLE TO JUST MOUTH OFF LIKE THAT! REST ASSURED, I WILL SEE YOU EXECUTED BEFORE THIS IS OVER!"

"Huh, what did we do to piss _you_ off so much?" Harry asked, looking thoroughly confused, alongside Dudley. Looking over at his cousin, Harry said, "Wasn't Valencia the only time we went to Spain?"

"Yeah, it was," Dudley nodded, looking up inquisitively at the glaring Minister. "But I don't remember us getting into any _actual_ trouble there that time. …Well, excluding our little gambling spree, of course."

"MINISTER ALEJANDRO ZAPATERO," the German Minister said. "WOULD YOU CARE TO EXPLAIN YOUR GRIEVANCES AGAINST THESE BOYS TO THE WIZENGAMOT?"

"BACK IN FEBRUARY THIS YEAR, THEY BECAME SINGLE-HANDEDLY RESPONSIBLE FOR THE COMPLETE BANKRUPTCY AND RUIN OF THE RACHELLES FAMILYLINE!" Minister Zapatero declared, maintaining his glare upon the boys, who merely blinked and looked at one another again in further confusion. Many of the politicians and representatives present had some good skill at interpreting facial expressions and body language, a very necessary skill to have when working with and against other politicians. But even those that were somewhat incompetent with such training could easily see neither of the boys could recall ever doing such a thing as what they were being accused of.

"I honestly don't remember doing something that extreme," Dudley said, contemplatively.

"Yeah, all we did in Spain was take in the sights and do some back-alley gambling," Harry admitted. "Sure, there was that one asshole who practically _threw_ his gold at us, but not enough to bankrupt someone."

"IF I MIGHT INTERJECT," Dumbledore said, standing up from where he had sat this whole time silently. He ignored the crowd of people who'd turned to look at him, keeping his gaze locked on Lucius pointedly. "PERHAPS THE SUPREME MUGWUMP COULD AUTHORIZE A VIEWING OF THE EVENT THAT THE BOYS CLAIM TO HAVE DONE? IF THEY ARE TRULY INNOCENT OF SUCH A CRIME, THEN NO HARM, NO FOUL, I SHOULD IMAGINE?"

"SIT DOWN, DUMBLEDORE!" Fudge snapped, glaring heatedly at the older wizard. "YOU ARE NOT A PART OF THIS ESTEEMED BODY ANYMORE! YOU CANNOT—"

"I WILL AUTHORIZE IT," Lucius interrupted loudly, purposely speaking louder to be heard over the seething Fudge. "AURORS, PLEASE…"

One of the Aurors stepped forward and held his wand out to Dudley's temple. The boy did his best to shake and dodge his head to prevent the Auror from extracting the memory, dearly hoping to keep that particular memory where it belonged. Harry just turned to watch in dawning horror as Dudley flailed about. As such, he failed to notice that another Auror had snuck up behind him until it was too late. Dudley froze as he noticed that his cousin had gone into a stupefied state momentarily while the Auror who'd been assaulting him backed away.

The Auror with Harry's memory quickly withdrew it and swung it upwards into the air. As he did so, a large misty image reminiscent of the Pensieve appeared. What the crowd found themselves staring was what was clearly a Spanish alleyway, as obvious by the stone architecture and cobblestone road. The images of the two boys was indeed of them inside the alley among a group of adolescents and young adults, who were all staring down at the ground as a pair of dice came to stop a short distance from Harry, who'd thrown them.

" _SEVEN!" Harry cried out triumphantly. And indeed, the image of the dice showed that they had come up as seven, a five and a two. "YES, ANOTHER WIN!" He was quick to snatch up the dice and the large bags of gold that were nearby_

" _Oh, we are_ _ **so**_ _on a roll!" Dudley cheered where he was off to the side, strumming with a ukulele and playing with the crowd._

" _We got a ton of gold for_ _ **me**_ _!" Harry sung out, dancing alongside Dudley._

" _No, we got a ton of gold for_ _ **me**_ _!" Dudley counter sung, lightly kicking Harry in the ass._

" _A ton of gold for_ _ **we**_ _!" the boys sung together, trying to work the playful crowd into a frenzied cheer for themselves._

" _HEY!" an angry aristocratic-looking teenager who proudly wore the Rachelles emblem on his cloak yelled, finally managing to get the boys' attentions through their dancing and prancing. "One more roll!"_

 _The cousins glanced at one another before sprouting identical grins. "Eh, bub?" Harry started slowly, as though speaking to a mentally handicapped person. "You're_ _ **broke**_ _! You got nothing to_ _ **bet**_ _with!"_

 _The teenager sneered as he pulled out two slips of paper from his pocket. "Oh yeah? I've got these!"_

" _Tickets?" Harry snorted, far from interested or impressed. But Dudley visibly perked up as he looked at them. "Tickets?!"_

" _Tickets to the Final Task of the Triwizard Tournament taking place at Hogwarts this year," the Rachelles boy said, like a salesman trying to sell a used broomstick to an ignorant buyer. "Easily worth a hundred Galleons apiece."_

"… _Wow," Dudley practically purred as he moved forward to carefully examine the tickets. Then he suddenly snapped around and grabbed Harry by the arm, "One moment please!"_

" _What is it?" Harry asked when he and Dudley crouched together into a huddle._

" _Those tickets are_ _ **real**_ _, Harry!" Dudley hissed excitedly. "And they came to us just as we were starting to worry about how to get to Hogwarts! This must be our_ _ **destiny**_ _!"_

 _Harry snarled slightly in disgust as he hissed back, "Dud, if I believed in '_ _ **destiny,**_ _' I wouldn't be playing with loaded dice!" He held up his dice again, which not so coincidentally turned up as two and five again. Dudley just started to pout in overly exaggerated and comical expressions in response to Harry's vehement denial._

" _I said one more roll!" the Rachelles boy snapped, losing his patience and earning the boys' attention again. "My tickets against your gold."_

 _The boys shared one more glance before Harry gave Dudley a smirk as he turned back and said, "Alright, little man. You're on—!"_

" _NOT with those!" Rachelles snapped before holding up his own dice. "This time we use my dice!"_

" _Eh…" Harry all but pouted._

" _Got a problem with that?" Rachelles demanded, his eyebrow arched pointedly._

" _No," Harry practically whimpered as he snatched the new dice away. He glared back at Dudley as he not so subtly drew his finger across his throat threateningly. Dudley just gave him a sheepish grin in response._

 _Throwing their three bags of gold and silver into the central pile, next to the Rachelles' tickets, the boys wasted no time in playing with the crowd again. Dudley practically pulled one particularly beautiful girl into his arms, despite once again strumming the ukulele. Harry began shaking the dice as he quietly began praying quite literally to God, Allah, the kami, and the spirits of nature for him to have just a_ _ **little**_ _bit of good luck._

 _Then, Dudley abruptly stopped playing as Harry threw the dice. "Show me seven!" It was perhaps the most stressful two seconds of the boys' lives as they watched the unweighted dice go spinning before coming to a stop. One…and six. The crowd particularly cheered for the two boys who'd been making such a boring game so much more enjoyable. Their cheers easily drowned out the Rachelles wails of despair as he fell to his knees in front of the pile. Dudley practically teleported over to the pile and snatched up the tickets, pocketing them instantly._

" _Seven?" Harry couldn't help gawking in honestly disbelief and relief. He threw himself down upon the bags, scooping them up protectively. Sadly, he failed to notice that his dice had slipped out of his pocket in his moment of distraction. "Seven! It's seven! Hahahahaha!" Still, trying to be a good sport, he looked up at the Rachelles boy saying, "Well, nice doing business y…" He tried off as he saw the boy pounding the ground, trying to get Harry's dice to roll over, which they failed to do._

" _I knew it!" the boy cried as Harry quickly snatched them up and pocketed them and the gold in one go. Glaring at the cousins, Rachelles cried out, "Your dice are jinxed!"_

 _Dudley glared at Rachelles and was about what to jump forward to pound the shit out of him for that…_ _ **accurate**_ _accusation. But Harry was quick to grab his shoulder and throw him to the side, pointing at him accusingly. "What?! You gave me jinxed dice?!"_

 _Harry walked right into the breastplate of a tall Auror, clad in shiny steel armor reminiscent of 16_ _th_ _century Spain. The sight of the Auror caught all of the teenagers by surprise as they hadn't noticed the man or his two partners enter the alleyway to break up the gambling ring. But Harry didn't panic, as most of the audience was starting to. Instead, he just backed up a few steps and pointed at Dudley again. "He gave me_ _ **jinxed dice**_ _! Auror,_ _ **arrest**_ _him!"_

" _You_ _ **dare**_ _to impugn my_ _ **honor?!**_ _" Dudley snapped, walking up alongside Harry as he looked imploringly at the Aurors. "_ _ **HE**_ _was the one who was_ _ **cheating**_ _! Arrest_ _ **him**_ _!" Dudley roughly elbowed Harry in the gut and knocked him back a few steps. "He tricked these good wizards and took their gold!"_

 _Recovering his breath from the sneak attack, Harry gawked at Dudley in disbelief. "WHAT?! Now I'M the thief?!"_

" _Yes!"_

" _Take a look in the mirror, pal!" Harry said, grabbing and facing Dudley towards the shiny breastplate where his reflection was clearly visible._

 _Dudley pouted for a moment before turning and throwing a jab at Harry's face. Harry easily dodged the slow but showy punch as Dudley cried out, "You better give them back their gold or I'll beat you black and blue, you yellow-bellied thief!" Harry bounced backwards as Dudley lunged forward. The two of them began exchanging large, showy punches and kicks, meant to impress an audience._

" _You fight like my sister!" Harry sneered as he jumped onto a nearby set of barrels. Dudley was fast to follow him, causing Harry to climb up onto the roof of the shop to gain more distance from Dudley._

" _I_ _ **love**_ _your sister!" Dudley declared as he climbed upon the roof himself. "That's a compliment!"_

" _What?! You heathen!" Harry cried out furiously, managing to trip Dudley and snapping his foot down triumphantly on Dudley's throat. Dudley gave a token attempt at fighting against Harry trying to crush his windpipe. Down below, the crowd were torn between cheering for Harry, decrying him to let Dudley live, and the rest just enjoying seeing their first ever fistfight between such roguish young men. But, abruptly, Harry stepped away and Dudley shot to his feet._

" _Ladies and gentlemen!" Dudley declared. "We've decided it's a draw!"_

" _Thank you all for coming!" Harry agreed, giving a theatrical bow to the crowd. "You've been great company. Hope to see you all again soon! Adios!"_

 _With that, the boys turned and started running along the roof. The roofs in this section of the city were close enough that the boys were able to jump from one to another with next to no effort. Behind them, they could hear shouts in Spanish as the Aurors started giving chase and calling for backup. As they were jumping across a particularly wide street, a pair of Aurors apparated onto the building next to theirs. Harry turned in midair and lobbed a small fireball at the men, catching them by surprise and knocking both of them off the roof in the ensuing explosion._

 _Reaching the end of the roof they were on, the boys found themselves at a large highway with dozens of cars and trucks driving passed. Across the street, they spotted a potential hiding spot in a dumpster. It wasn't ideal at all, but the clamor of approaching armored Aurors gave them little choice. Not unless they wanted to cause another international incident, which Uncle Vernon had strictly forbidden them doing for this particular trip._

 _Turning to Harry, Dudley grinned challenging. "I bet we could make that!"_

 _Glancing back the fast-approaching Aurors, Harry snarled in disgust but agreed, "Two sickles says we can't."_

" _You're on!" Dudley cried as they both took mighty leaps across the highway. The arcs of their jump were perfectly spot on and they landed in a heap of trash with a pair of crashes. "You lose," Dudley chirped cheekily._

 _Harry moodily flipped a pair of silver coins over to his cousin in response. Once done, he reached up and slammed the top of the dumpster shut. Seconds after he'd done so, the entire dumpster shook and started moving. "What's happening here?!"_

" _We're both in a dumpster," Dudley said in a deadpan voice. "That's the extent of my knowledge."_

 _That was when the dumpster started to tip to one side. The top swung open as the garbage inside was moved into a garbage truck. The boys were buried underneath unmentionable bits of trash and junk in the process. After a few long moments of digging themselves out, they exchanged identical looks of disgust. "We shall take this shame to our graves," Harry uttered imploringly._

 _Dudley just grunted in agreement as he bumped Harry's fist in acknowledgement._

Mercifully, the memory finally came to an end after that.

"So much for _that_ promise," Dudley moaned, looking away with a furiously hot face of embarrassment. Next to him, Harry kept his face stoically neutrally as he gazed straight up at the crowd of gawking wizards. More than a few of the government officials were staring in disbelief at the two boys, unable to truly believe that they could've pulled off such a deed and escaped with relatively minor humiliation to show for it. But the crowd of spectating wizards and witches lining the stands around them were mostly all laughing uproariously at the ridiculous show that the boys had put on for the Spanish wizards in that back alley. To them, that had to have been one of the most amusing sights they'd seen in a while.

"So, you see," Harry called out, drawing everyone's attention to them. "We didn't do _diddly-squat_ to 'bankrupt and ruin' no family! All we did was have a friendly little game of _dice!_ It wasn't _our_ fault the _dumbass_ bet more than _twenty thousand_ Galleons on it!" Even among the richest Purebloods, twenty thousand Galleons was an absurd number to wager on such a game. No sane wizard would've done such a thing.

" _But_ I can't help but _wonder_ …" Harry continued, drawling slightly to draw more attention. "Twenty thousand _hardly_ seems like it'd bankrupt _anyone_. Unless that family was _obscenely_ big spenders, they should've had at least a few more _hundred thousand_ in their bank accounts, _right_? So, _how_ could twenty thousand cause bankruptcy?"

"THAT IS _NONE_ OF YOUR BUSINESS, YOU LITTLE _FUCKER_!" Zapatero snapped furiously.

" _YEAH?_ WELL, YOU'RE _MAKING_ IT MY BUSINESS!" Harry snapped back, equally furious.

" _Calm down_ , Salamander," Dudley snapped, surprising many in the crowd. The blonde certainly didn't seem like the type to encourage restraint, after all. Turning a confident grin that bordered on the point of arrogance, he glanced up Zapatero with a knowing look. "Don't let that _imbecile_ get to you. _We_ hold all the cards in this deck."

"IS THAT SO?" Zapartero snapped, his face reddening as his rage started to override his self-control. "YOU SEEM TO BE UNDER THE _DELUSION_ THAT YOU'LL GET OUT THIS WITH _NO PUNISHMENT_! ONE WORD FROM US, AND YOU'LL BE SPENDING THE REST OF YOUR SHORT LIVES _ROTTING_ IN AZKABAN, NURMENGARD, OR SOME _OTHER_ HELLHOLE WE CAN FIND!"

"PREFERABLY AZKABAN," Fudge agreed, nodding his head vehemently. " _NO ONE_ HAS EVER ESCAPED THAT PRISON!"

To the confusion of the audience and officials, neither of the boys seemed intimidated by the prospect of incarceration in a prison with such a prestigious reputation as having no successful escape attempts. In fact, both boys seemed to perk up in excitement, glancing over at each other with growing grins on their faces.

"No one has ever escaped before, huh?" Dudley repeated.

"Sounds like a challenge!" Harry said. Looking over at his blonde cousin, he said, "What do you think, Dud? For such a claim, this must be one hell'va prison!"

"Yeah," Dudley agreed, nodding as he looked over at Harry. "I'm guessing it's probably on an island out in the North Sea or North Atlantic."

"And considering that most wizards we've met have had a taste for the 'classics,'" Harry continued. "I'd bet that it's probably some lonely black tower out in the middle of nowhere."

"Complete with some unspeakably ghastly guards that constantly torment the inmates," Dudley concluded, nodding along with Harry. "How long do you think it'd take to break out?"

"If it's an island and I let myself wait to get locked in my cell as a starting point?" Harry asked, earning a nod from his companion. Considering all the factors that they'd briefly summarized, Harry made his estimate with a wide grin. "Five minutes to reach the shore from my cell, assuming I took my time and didn't blow out the wall of my cell instead."

" _Ha!_ " Dudley laughed. " _Five_ minutes?! I'd bet I could get out in less than _two!_ And unlike _you_ , I could _easily_ get back to shore!"

"You just _love_ bringing _that_ subject up, _don't_ you?" Harry grumbled irritably, once again reminded of the _one_ feat he wished he could do more than anything else but was utterly unable to.

Though they didn't want to admit it, many in the audience and those who were prosecuting the duo found themselves rather unsettled by the blasé attitude the boys had. It was abundantly clear that they didn't view the imprisonment in the worst jails of the Wizarding World as something to fear, but a challenge to be overcome. And one that apparently didn't rank very high on their list. To treat Azkaban as something so trivial as that was like a metaphorical punch to the gut for many of the more aggressive Wizards present, namely Zapatero and Fudge since Azkaban was their ultimate trump card against undesirables.

"HOW CAN YOU CHILDREN TREAT AZKABAN AS SOMETHING SO MINOR?!" Fudge yelled, torn between anger, confusion, and being somewhat intimidated by the all-too-calm duo. "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU TWO ARE, ANYWAY?!"

"Who are _we?_ " Dudley repeated, looking up at Fudge with an expression of exaggerated surprise.

"How could you _not_ know?!" Harry questioned, similarly looking a little too surprised.

Then, before any of the gathered Aurors surrounding them could intervene, bright and fiery auras erupted around the boys. Dudley's yellow aura only seemed to accent his suddenly bulging muscles as he stood up and absentmindedly snapped the chains that'd been holding him in place. By contrast, Harry's fires easily super-heated the chains around him and melted them into slag, allowing him to stand up with no trouble. These two spontaneous feats happened within seconds and once the chains had been dealt with, both boys' auras faded away. But all of the gathered Wizards and Witches were on edge with extreme nervousness at how quickly and easily they had managed to escaped their restraints. The Aurors backed up with their wands drawn immediately. However, neither boy paid the scared audience any attention as they suddenly crouched down into silly superhero-like poses as they started chanting out what was clearly a rehearsed speech.

"Allow us to properly introduce ourselves!" Harry began.

"We are the pioneers of a fantastic new power!" Dudley exclaimed.

"Stronger than anyone else before!" Harry continued.

"The greatest martial arts masters in the world!" Dudley cried out.

"The first ever Ki-Adept of the modern age: Dudley Dursley the Saiyan!" Harry gestured dramatically over to Dudley, who was quite literally glowing with praise (aided by his aura) as he gave a deep bow to the crowd.

"The first ever British Chi-Adept in history: Harry Potter the Salamander!" Dudley finished as Harry, silhouetted by a fiery dragon aura, struck a silly pose as he waited for the applause.

Total silence hung over the Quidditch Pitch for several long seconds. Long enough for Harry to straighten up out of his pose as he and Dudley looked around in confusion. Everyone they could see seemed frozen in surprise, staring at them…or rather at Harry.

"Hey, Dud," Harry said quietly, but his voice still carrying over to the audience due to the silence. "Do you think we broke them?"

"Yeah…" Dudley agreed, equally confused. Then he turned and pointed at Harry accusingly, "I told you the dramatic entrance was too much for these simpleminded buffoons!"

"Don't blame this on _me!_ " Harry snapped, spinning to face Dudley, lashing out to knock his outstretched arm away. "You were the one who wanted the maximum amount of attention possible!"

"Yes, but clearly you messed this up somehow, you scar-faced sack of fire crap!" Dudley countered angrily, leaning into Harry's personal space with a furious glare.

"And how do you come to that conclusion, you bloated lack-witted giant ape!" Harry demanded, slamming his forehead against Dudley's challengingly as both boys glared heavily at each other, snarling like a pair of rabid dogs.

"ARE…ARE YOU REALLY…HARRY POTTER?" some witch in the audience hesitantly asked, breaking the boys from their tunnel-vision.

"Yeah, what of it?" Harry asked, turning to look at the audience while conveniently ignoring Dudley who accidentally flopped to the ground after Harry turned away.

Upon seeing the gawking and near-reverent looks that he was suddenly getting from many in the audience, Harry suddenly started feeling a little bit uncomfortable. Sure, he was accustomed to standing in front of a large crowd. Fighting in multiple martial arts tournaments and becoming an overnight celebrity due to his fire magic over the past few years tended to beat any type of nervousness out of a person for being the center of attention in a large group. But the looks he was getting weren't like the crowd of well-wishers, aspiring fighters and rivals, and just random fans that he'd grown accustomed to. These looks felt very much more like he was a slab of meat being examined at the market before purchase. Some of the looks were clearly more politically driven while others felt like he being mentally-stripped down, thankfully these particular ones seemed more centered on the female-half of the audience. But all of these looks also had something akin to hero-worship mixed in with them.

Something was very _wrong_ here…

"I know I'm an awesome guy and all, but why the _bloody hell_ are all of you staring at me like that!" Harry demanded, frowning deeply at the audience with a glare.

"TELL ME, MR. POTTER," Dumbledore said before anyone else could speak up. "HOW MUCH OF YOUR PAST ARE YOU AWARE OF?"

"Enough," Harry said shortly. But upon seeing Dumbledore's expectant stare, he clarified, "I know that some crazy fuck of a Dark Lord killed my parents, apparently tried to kill me but failed, and that I got ditched with my relatives afterwards… Although, now that I think about it, I really should thank you guys for that! Things definitely turned out better for me due to that!" Dumbledore frowned deeply at that statement.

"IF YOU'RE _REALLY_ HARRY POTTER," one of the Aurors surrounding them asked. " _WHY_ HAVEN'T YOU COME BACK TO THE WIZARDING WORLD!? _WHY_ HAVEN'T YOU ATTENDED HOGWARTS LIKE YOU _SHOULD'VE?!_ "

Dudley and Harry both snorted at that. The partially-ignorant Boy-Who-Lived just looked over at the magical policeman with a deadpan stare. "Haven't you been _listening_? I had more _important_ stuff to do than wear a dress and coop myself up in a castle for nine months out of the year. Besides, I didn't even learn that there _was_ a Wizarding World until you lot started trying to arrest me for breaking laws I didn't even know _existed!_ "

Dudley helpfully chirped in with, "If you blokes really wanted him in your precious Wizarding World, you should've kept in better contact than you did! As far as I can tell, he had been completely excommunicated from you wankers!"

"Are you really complaining about that, Dudley?" Harry asked, grinning at Dudley.

"Ha! As if!" Dudley laughed. "Like you said, it turned out for the best that you were excommunicated!"

"BOYS," Dumbledore interrupted again, blatantly ignoring the angry looks he was getting from several of the government officials. "I AM CURIOUS. _WHY_ ARE YOU HERE? YOU HAVE MADE IT _QUITE_ CLEAR THAT YOU COULD'VE ESCAPED THOSE BINDINGS _WHENEVER_ YOU WANTED. ALONG WITH EVERYTHING ELSE YOU'VE SHOWN OF YOUR MAGIC ABILITIES, YOU COULD'VE _EASILY_ LEFT AND WE WOULD'VE HAD A _VERY_ HARD TIME TRYING TO STOP YOU. ALAS: _WHY ARE YOU HERE?_ "

"Oooh, clever, old man!" Dudley purred, grinning at the white-haired old wizard.

"But he's right," Harry admitted, putting the anomaly of his past with these wizards to the back of his mind and moving on. "We do have a reason for all of this. And the best way we could get the results we wanted was to have the maximum amount of public attention as we could get."

"This Tournament of yours was actually not only very convenient for that," Dudley continued, grinning cheekily over at the Champions and Headmasters. "But it was also rather ironic at the same time."

"ENOUGH WITH THE SUSPENSE!" the as-yet-silent Norwegian Minister interrupted impatiently. "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!"

"We want to open a _business_ ," Harry stated simply. "And our trade deals in _secrets_."

"WHAT _SECRETS_?"

"The secrets that all of you will likely be wanting to know by now!" Dudley declared, grinning widely. "The secrets to how we can do what we can do!"

"That's right!" Harry continued. "We are opening a _summer school_ for any magic school students who are interested in learning new ways to use their magic, similar to us!"

Once again, total silence fell over the crowd as they tried digesting this latest revelation, along with so many others that'd already been revealed.

* * *

( **Author's Note** ) BIG TIME shout out to my friends **Fiori57** for helping me brainstorm and **badassumbreon** for editing this chapter. I hope you guys have as much fun reading it as I did writing it!


	4. Recruitment Schemes

**The Magic Revolution**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
 _#04: Recruitment Schemes_

 **June 25, 2015  
Hogwarts**

"Do you think it's really him?"

"Of course it's him! It couldn't be anyone else!"

"No way! He's probably just some foreigner from the Orient! You know they've got a ridiculous type of magic over there!"

"No, you're wrong! The Orientals might not use wands like us, but they still need a foci to channel their magic! What he was doing was something completely different!"

"You're right. I heard that they use river stones, _pebbles_ , to use their magic with! How _uncivilized_ and _barbaric_!"

"So that just means that he _wasn't_ taught by the Orients. But then who taught him?"

It was lunch break in Hogwarts and things had not calmed down in the slightest. Although the numerous Professors had attempted to get the school back into their normal schedule now that the tournament was over, they might as well have been trying to stop the tide from rising. None of the students could pay attention to their lessons in the slightest. Not even Professors McGonagall and Snape could gain control of their classroom since all of their students were discussing, quite openly, the events that had taken place last night and the rumors that they'd heard earlier today.

Word passed like a virus from the stadium, spreading out in all directions at an epidemic rate. It wouldn't have been an exaggeration to say that within ten minutes of revealing himself, everyone within the Hogwarts and Hogsmeade grounds was aware of the fact that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, long lost hero of Wizarding Britain, and the singular most important figure in recent history had finally been found. He had been found and was one of the two unknown attackers of the Triwizard Tournament. And he was also planning on teaching his unique branch of wandless magic to others! These three pieces of news quickly had all of the gossips, reporters, and commonfolk talking, creating and spreading new rumors, and just causing a lot more confusion than was warranted for the situation. Though, they could be somewhat forgiven this overreaction given the fact this was such a unique situation and they didn't know how to react to it.

But the news struck Hogwarts the hardest. For years, the students and faculty alike had awaited in impatience for the lost Potter boy to be found and returned to where he belonged. Those first two years had been the hardest for them to endure, for that was when their hope was strongest. But given the tragedies that had occurred during those two years, they had quickly lost that hope. Followed by the Dementor attacks in the previous school year, most had finally lost any inkling that they were ever going to find him. By this present year, it was generally assumed that the boy was dead or enrolled in some other foreign magic school. However, since none of the other European schools were boasting their accomplishment of gaining the Potter heir's admittance, the idea he was in a foreign school seemed remote. So, the general consensus was that he was dead, whether killed by uncaught Death Eaters, by abuse of the savage and backwards Muggles he lived with, or just as a delayed side-effect of the Dark Lord's curse. And now they found out that not only was he alive and well, but he was stronger than ever and possessed a magic that was unknown to all.

The Gryffindors felt that small spark of hope that they'd managed to keep alive through all of the tragedies and tribulations finally flare back to life, brighter and stronger than ever. All of them were confident that now that the boy had finally come back, he would be joining Hogwarts next year and be Sorted into Gryffindor House, where he _belonged_. The Hufflepuffs, by contrast, were all feeling quite a bit irate. The fabled Boy-Who-Lived might've finally come back, but he's just interrupted an international tournament and stole the spotlight that their Champion had fought hard to gain, _stealing_ what that should've been Hufflepuff House's _long_ awaited glory! The Ravenclaws were perhaps the most neutral House of the four. Though hopeful that his return might signal the end of the bad times they'd been through, they were more interested in the magic he and his partner had displayed during the Final Task. How did they do what they did? It was a mystery that none of them knew the answers to, which therefore demanded that all of them find out as soon as they could. The Purebloods of Slytherin House was definitely the most antagonistic towards the long-lost hero's return, as they felt they should be. He was the cause of their families' numerous disgraces, financial ruin and/or hardships, imprisonments, and a whole kaleidoscope of indirect problems they'd had over the years since their Lord's downfall. And now the Potter boy had the nerve to show up, gallivanting through the Triwizard Tournament that was meant to show off just how much more powerful and better Hogwarts was, using a strange type of magic that they'd never seen before. Yes, all of them were equally infuriated but also reluctantly curious about the boy and his partner.

With her food mostly untouched, Sue Li sat in her spot at the Ravenclaw table and listened to the numerous conversations taking place. Most of them were just repeats of the same common trend, questioning if the black-haired fire boy was indeed Harry Potter, where he learned his magic, who taught it to him, and why he was back now and not sooner. For the Chinese girl, she knew better than most that the magics the boys had used weren't something to be learned from the Far East. Though she'd been born and raised in Britain, Sue Li had occasionally visited her distant relatives in the Xinjiang Province and she was at least passingly familiar with their brand of magic and what was taught at the various Far Eastern magic schools. The Europeans greatly misunderstood and even flat-out disregarded their distant cousins because they didn't understand how their magics worked. But even with that passing knowledge, Sue Li was no closer to understanding how the boys could do what they did.

"Sue?" Anthony Goldstein's voice tore her from her inner debate. Looking over at her housemate, Sue blinked as she noticed that most of them seemed to be watching her. "You've been to the Orient before, right? Could those boys have learned their magic there?"

"No," Sue answered quickly and bluntly. "All modern magic in China revolves around foci of some sort. And although there are a lot of different types out there, none of them are capable of producing such high-caliber flames or energy blasts."

"What?" another Ravenclaw further down groaned out. "Dammit. So much for that theory."

"Wait a second," Cho Chang said, her eyes narrowing contemplatively. "You said 'modern' magic. Does that mean that there was some ancient type of magic that could explain it?"

Sue hesitated for a moment. Then, despite herself, she found herself sighing heavily in annoyance. This particular question, or at least ones similar to it, had been one that she'd been finding herself answering _multiple_ times over the past few years, most notably from the freshly arriving Muggleborn First Years for some reason. "I really don't know. There are a lot of myths and legends in China surrounding the ancient magic users. But a lot of them do pertain to magic users who _could_ fly or perform _incredible_ magics through some sort of…meditation and…emotional control? I really don't remember, it's been several years since I was last there." Looking pointedly over at her fellow witch, she asked, "Should you know this as well? Haven't you made the pilgrimage back to China by now?"

Cho flushed momentarily as her housemates looked at her. "I did…when I was three years old. And my parents haven't brought us back since. It was too long ago for me to remember clearly."

Up at the staff table, the Professors were having a very similar conversation. McGonagall and Sprout were grilling Flitwick, who was the most traveled and knowledgeable of the greater world of the gathered teachers. Snape, though arguably even more knowledgeable than Flitwick, was just too unapproachable, curt, and angry to answer any questions directed towards him. The other professors had noticed his mood immediate plummet after learning of Potter's presence.

In his mind, Snape was reviewing everything he'd glimpsed of the boy the previous evening, which admittedly wasn't as much as he'd have liked. He had been one of the few professors to keep a cool head, directing and escorting the panicking masses towards the various exits when the fire boy— _Potter!_ —had started the brawl with the Champions and then the Headmasters. But what little he had managed to glimpse of the boy had not been promising in his opinion. Though the boy was clearly a carbon copy of his detestable father, he seemed to have the fighting spirit and cunning of his mother. He was as attention-seeking as his father, but now he'd learned that it was for the higher purpose of spreading news that he wanted to teach his new magic to others, a scheme like that was something his mother would've concocted. He was loud and arrogant, showing off a magic that was unique and soaking up the attention like a sponge. But the fact that he had even been able to apparently create such magic was something that strongly pointed towards a much higher understanding of magic and its intricacies that very few wizards ever achieved.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" a loud voice from the Entrance Hall called out, drifting over the din of the students conversations with surprising ease.

"Of _course_ I do!" a second voice answered. "Something smells _good_ over this way!"

"Hah! _I'll_ be judge of _that_!"

"Are you _still_ doubting my superior sense of smell?"

"After that time in San Francisco? Hell _yes_ , Salamander!"

"That was a _fluke_ and you know it!"

By this time, all other conversations had died as the two boys appeared in the doorway of the Great Hall.

"Hey, look, Dudley, a crowd!" Harry grinned, looking over the four tables.

"Must be a good place to eat!" the Saiyan boy agreed. Then, something strange happened. His body seemed to shimmer, growing fuzzy for a split second before it vanished entirely. "Looks like we're gonna have a classic English meal for lunch, Salamander!"

Everyone but Harry flinched as the hugely-muscular blonde suddenly reappeared on the opposite side of the Great Hall, standing just before the Professors' table with a platter of food stacked impossibly high in one hand. The blonde boy ignored the various cries of surprise and fright as he started digging in his mountain of food with a ravenous hunger that seemed comically too large for even someone of his stature. Snape took that quick moment to survey the boy and had to quietly admit that he was more than somewhat impressed by the boy's physique. It looked like every single muscle upon his body was worked and bugling with a strength no wizard had ever known. But the spiky blonde's body was only secondary to what had really captured his attention. On the back of his white and gold shirt was a serpentine black dragon with its wings proudly spread wide as though in flight. The image was quite large and eye-catching.

"Yeah, that's too bad," Harry said from where he was now sitting between two students at the Hufflepuff table, a similar mountain of food stacked high on his own platter. "I could've really gone for some shrimp fried rice and egg rolls right now!" The students around him quickly fell back away from him, some even quite literally as one particularly frightened Hufflepuff lost his footing and fell to the ground. But the Potter boy ignored that he attacked his mountain with the same voracious appetite as his cousin.

"Hey!" one of the Hufflepuff 7th years cried out, snarling angrily as he stood to his feet, drawing his wand and pointing it threateningly towards the nearest threat. "What are you two doing here!?"

"Yeah, shouldn't you still be under arrest?!" one of the Slytherins agreed.

Dudley just looked up from his platter with a mouthful of food, cocking his head questioningly. "Whff dff yothh thinff wff doffng?"

"Don't be a slob, Dudley!" Harry called out, absentmindedly chucking a nearby empty goblet at his partner. The missile struck the boy head-on with a resounding clang, but did little more than have the boy sending his cousin an annoyed looked as the goblet careened to the floor behind him. "Your mother taught you better than that!"

"Answer the question!" the Hufflepuff demanded as more of the students started standing up. Most of them were trying to back away, but others that were braver or stupider moved forward to join in the fight.

"ALL OF YOU SIT DOWN!" McGonagall ordered, her voice stern as her presence demanded absolute obedience. Within only a moment, all of the rising students had promptly returned to their seats.

"Wow," Dudley remarked, glancing over the masses before returning his attention to McGonagall. "That was pretty scary. Let me guess, you're the disciplinarian of the school?"

"…Yes, to an extent, young man," Professor McGonagall nodded. "Now, what are you two doing here? Shouldn't you two still be in Auror custody?"

"Yeah, about that," Dudley rubbed the back of his head somewhat sheepishly. "We were but the old fuddy-duddies started arguing really badly about fifteen minutes ago. We got bored and decided to go look around. I doubt they even noticed we left."

"You mean you just walked out of a highly-secured Wizengamot meeting that held no less than five Ministers of Magic and nobody even noticed?" someone yelled from the student body. "How's that possible?!"

"Easier than you'd might think," Harry answered easily, grinning at the gawking faces around him. "The 'hard part' was getting away from the Aurors surrounding us on that dais, but they weren't even paying attention to us by that point! Then I smelled something tasty and we remembered that we hadn't eaten anything since yesterday. So, excuse us if we don't talk that much." With that said, he quickly returned to his meal, idly grabbing another nearby plate in the process.

"Who are _you_ , young man?" Sprout asked, looking at Dudley. "I've seen the list of magical candidates who are eligible for enrollment at Hogwarts, but I've never come across the name 'Dudley' for someone of your age. And you don't have the look of a foreigner."

This time swallowing his mouthful before answering, Dudley grinned conceitedly at the Professors. "Well, _of course_ I'm not on the list. I'm _not_ a wizard. In fact, by your definition, I'm a _Muggle_ , through and through and proud of it!"

"You lie," Snape couldn't help saying, his eyes boring into Dudley's. "What you displayed last night couldn't have been anything other than magic."

Dudley just grinned. "People often call inexplicable things they come across as 'magic' when they don't understand it."

As much as he hated to admit it, Snape found that the boy was telling the truth. Even with just a feather-touch of Legilimency, he could detect no lie or hidden truths in the boy's statement or mind. At the very least, he truly believed that what he said was the absolute _truth_ and what he did last night _wasn't_ magic. Seeing that he wasn't going to get anything else from the boy, Snape broke contact with him and focused down on Potter, who was undergoing some fearful interrogation by the surrounding students.

Now that he actually had a chance to see the boy, Snape found his ire and disgust rising somewhat. Even from a distance of some twenty paces, it was obvious that the boy took strongly after his father in terms of body structure and appearance. Although, mercifully, he seemed to have retained his mother's bright green eyes. But those similarities were marred by some rather distinct differences that separated his appearance quite vastly from his parents. It was a known fact that for the past fifteen generations, that the Potters had poor eyesight, requiring glasses to function. Yet the teen wore no such objects and seemed perfectly fine operating without them, better even. There was also the matter of musculature, the boy had very well developed muscles. Something many wizards and witches lacked. This of course led to him being slightly different in appearance then their memories of what James Potter looked like. That and the strange clothes he wore also made him look very different. It was some type of martial arts fighting uniform that Snape vaguely remembered seeing once as a child before he received his Hogwarts letter. Curiously, on the back of the black and gold shirt there was a large serpentine golden dragon that was easily comparable to the Chinese Fireball.

Movement from the students quickly drew Snape's eye. He easily recognized the long blonde hair of Luna Lovegood as the whimsical girl approached the Potter boy from the opposite side of the table he sat at, her ever-present smile still on her face. As the boy glanced up at her, the girl gave him a small nod in greeting as she said, "Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Salamander. It's nice to see you again."

With his mouth full of food, the Potter boy just blinked as he cocked his head in confusion, grunting out questioningly at her. It was a confusion shared the rest of the students as the Ravenclaw girl took a seat across from Harry.

"Hey, Loon—Luna, do you know this guy?" one of the Ravenclaws called out.

"Yes," Luna answered, not batting an eye at the student almost calling her by her nickname again. "We met in Paris a little while ago. Remember, Harry?"

Swallowing his mouthful, the boy beat his chest slightly to force it down before he was able to answer. "N-Not really…I was pretty…distracted last time I was in Paris. Keeping Dudley out of trouble is a fulltime job, after all."

Luna giggled somewhat at that, nodding. "Yes, you said something similar to that last time. But I don't blame you for forgetting, I'm not a very memorable person."

"Hold on a sec!" Dudley barked as he suddenly materialized behind the girl, causing the students and even her to jump slightly in surprise and fright. But Dudley paid this little attention, instead grabbing her and pulling her to her feet. Turning her this way and that, inspecting her as though she were a piece of meat at the market for a few moments. His inspection ended when he turned her slightly around, grabbing her school robes and pulling them flush against her body as he looked at her backside, nodding in affirmation. Throughout all this, Luna just smiled and waited, though she did blush slightly towards the end. Ignoring the nearby students for his blatant and rather intrusive examination, Dudley turned to Harry with a wide grin. "This is her, Harry! Remember?! That French witch we met before we decorated the Eiffel Tower!"

"What?" Harry asked, surprised. "Are you sure? You know I don't remember what happened that night!"

" _Of course_ you don't," Dudley groused, still grinning. "You were totally zonked out! What a _lightweight_! But there's no doubt about it! I'd recognize this lass's _fine_ piece of ass _anywhere_!"

"Must you be so vulgar?" Harry asked in annoyance, also ignoring the gawking students. For the Hogwarts students, they weren't sure what to make this. The fact that Loony Lovegood seemed to have been familiar with the boys was surprising. The fact that the blonde muscled one called her such things was even more so, especially considering she was barely even 14. Then again, with how much the school robes were covering her developing figure…who knows?

"Harry, have you killed anymore dragons recently?" Luna asked, taking her seat again as Dudley plopped down beside her and started filling another plate. "You know you really shouldn't. They are an endangered species after all."

" _Hey_ , it's not _my_ fault that Dark Wizards always seem to capturing and unleashing them on us whenever we show up to bust up their little _criminal empires_!" Harry replied in a somewhat offended tone. "But to answer your question, yes, I've killed only _three_ more since that time in Paris."

Luna let out a small sigh of sadness. "Those poor dragons…"

"I know," Harry said, looking and sounding equally remorseful.

"What about you, Dudley?" Luna asked, immediately snapping out of her depression as she focused on the Dursley boy. "Have you killed anything since then?"

"Oh, _tons_ of things!" Dudley boasted, grinning proudly. "You're gonna have to be more _specific_ than that, babe!"

"Okay," Luna said, nodding. "How about some seeddos?" While the rest of the students all just groaned collectively at what they knew was coming next, Dudley and Harry just cocked their heads questioningly. Knowing that they didn't know what she was talking about, Luna elaborated, "Seeddos are like giant seeds with razor-sharp teeth. They mostly live in the tropics and hunt in large groups. Not many people have seen them and survived."

"Hm…" Dudley hummed as he thought, cocking his head contemplatively as he chewed on a piece of steak. "Little brown things that look like shriveled up grapes or raisins? Wearing coconut masks and with stubby black limbs?" The surrounding students all blinked and gawked at the blonde. What was he doing? Was he just playing along with her or was he being serious?

Luna also blinked in surprise before smiling softly at him. "Yes."

Harry started chuckling as he pushed away a bowl of stew he'd just finished. "Sounds like that time we sailed from Hawaii to Thailand, eh, Dud?"

"Hahah! Oh yeah!" Dudley laughed, grabbing a chicken leg. "The little buggers tried burning our boat, but you sucked it up and I blew apart theirs! What poetic justice!"

"Wait a moment, hold on!" Seamus Finnegan cried out, pushing his way roughly forward until he could see the boys somewhat better. "They're real?! They aren't just some _mumbo-jumbo_ that Loony Lovegood and the _Quibbler_ made up?! Those ridiculous things are _real?!_ "

Both boys grins instantly faded, replaced by frowns as they glared heatedly over at the Gryffindor. Seamus quickly noticed their ire and shrank back slightly in fear, confusion all over his face. What had he said wrong? He was just curious!

"You know," Harry said softly, but still sounding incredibly angry and therefore dangerous. "Last time someone insulted one of his friends, the person ended up in the hospital with multiple broken bones and quite extensive burns covering over 90 percent of their body. Dudley has such a _wicked_ temper over such things."

"Indeed," Dudley said, suddenly standing behind Seamus with his arms crossed, which only further accented just how hugely muscular they were. Seamus and the rest of the nearby students all cried out in alarm and surprise, having not noticed Dudley's rapid movement until just now. Before he could back away, Dudley lashed out and grabbed Seamus by his necktie and shirt, picking him bodily off the ground with no apparent strain. "And you know what happened last time _Harry_ got mad at someone insulting _his_ friends? They had to be gently hoisted off a tower ledge from where he'd hung them by their _underwear_ and untangled from the _pretzel_ -shape that he'd dislocated and tied their limbs into. And that wasn't even when he was _really_ mad at the person involved!"

" _Congratulations_ , you just managed to tick _both_ of us off by insulting our friend, _Luna_ Lovegood," Harry said, smiling brightly as though he wasn't threatening the boy with horrible mutilation and pain. "So, just one question: what's your name? You know, just so we know what to put on your gravestone?"

"That's enough, Harry, Dudley!" Luna ordered, her voice surprisingly stern as she glared at the two boys. "You've gotten your points across. I'm sure no one will be foolish enough to do that again." Looking over sternly at Dudley, she said, "Please put him down, Dudley?"

Dudley just looked over at her, seeing her soft but pleading smile. With only just a twitch of his fingers, he released the scared-witless Gryffindor, causing him to collapse heavily to the floor and scurry away with his tail between his legs. Dudley quickly took his seat next to Luna again.

"To answer your question," Harry said, speaking loudly as he looked over towards where he somehow knew Seamus was trying to hide. " _Yes_ , they do really exist! Seedos, that is! You guys have probably never seen them before because, like Luna said, they _only_ live in the tropics. And from what I've seen of the European wizarding world, you guys really don't _get out_ and _explore_ the world that much. So, _of course_ , you'd just dismiss the idea that things like Seedos really exist!"

"As fascinating as this is," Snape drawled out, surprising the students as they hadn't noticed his approach until just now. "Is there a reason you've decided to grace us with your presence, _Potter_?"

Harry looked up Snape with a mouthful of potatoes, blinking somewhat before chuckling. Swallowing, he grinned up at the dark, greasy wizard. "Wow, you sure know how to make an entrance, don't you, Professor? And, in one line, manage to show your _complete contempt_ for a boy you _don't even know_. _How_ did you _**do**_ that? That's a _real talent_ right there!"

Snape's scowl deepened, unsure whether he'd just been insulted or praised. And, yet again, struck by just how much like Lily he was acting. Such a thing would've been something rather similar to what his lost love would've said. Even the threats he had made to Mr. Finnegan were as imaginative and painful as something Lily would've thought up, though arguably with a lot less magic involved.

"I get the feeling this bub was bullied mercilessly when he was our age," Dudley chirped up, blatantly ignoring Snape's suddenly thunderous look as the rest of the students scooted away, fearing the angry Professor might start attacking. "And, judging from how much he's glaring, it was probably done by your father or mother, Salamander."

"If he can't separate me from them, then that's his problem, not mine," Harry said bluntly, also ignoring Snape for a few moments. Snape didn't need his telepathy to know that both boys couldn't care less what he thought of them. Then, like a light bulb switching on, Harry suddenly turned and examined Snape calculatingly.

"What?" the Professor snapped angrily, his hand already grasping his wand.

"Hm… A lithe build, some muscle definition, broad shoulders, and unkempt hair," Harry listed off. "You must've been a warrior that was shoehorned into the role of Professor sometime in the past." Seeing how Snape's facial expression changed and how his body twitched, Harry gave the man a small smile. "A formidable warrior at that. That must also mean that you had a rival or two that you were never able to truly outmatch and were never able to settle the score between you until he or they died."

"You assume a lot for a boy who knows nothing about me," Snape growled, crossing his arms reflexively, defensively.

"I don't have to know you to figure _that_ out," Harry said, grinning now. "It's all in your body posture. Would you like to know why you probably never beat your rivals?"

"Please, _teach me_ , oh wise one," Snape spat out as he turned away, glaring heatedly down at the students nearest him.

"You walk through life with a chip on your shoulder and your nerves wound too tight," Harry explained, blatantly ignoring Snape's tone, seeing that the man was listening despite his stance. "This tension makes it hard for you to move and fight at your fullest potential. Judging from your body type, you probably try to strategize and outmaneuver your opponents rather than stonewalling their attacks and retaliating in kind with equal or greater power. That, by itself, is actually a very smart tactic. But you lose precious time with all that thinking and strategizing. In a fight, it's not always the smartest or the strongest or the most powerful that wins. Oftentimes, it's the one that's quickest to deal out a finishing blow that wins. Thus, you need to learn to stop thinking so much and just act or react as instinct demands. After all, you can only think so much so fast. So, my advice to you is to learn to relax first. When there's a chance to sit back and enjoy a cup of tea, you should take it."

"Or you could take _my_ preferred route of attack," Dudley chirped up, grinning widely. " _Hit it!_ Whatever it _is_ , whatever it's _done_ to you, just _hit_ _it!_ If it's still moving and fighting back, then you're _obviously_ not hitting it _hard enough!_ "

"Pfft, _yes_ , that _is_ your preferred modus operandi," Harry said, turning back to his cousin with a look of derision on his face. "And it's worked out _so well_ in the past!"

"You say that like it isn't obvious!" Dudley replied grinning.

"Three words, Dudley," Harry said with a deadpan look on his face. "Statue of Jesus."

"Heheheheheh!" the blonde chuckled, ignoring Harry's continuing deadpan stare. "I still say the damn thing deserved it!"

"Ooooh! That sounds like an interesting story!" Luna said, eyes wide and sparkling excitedly. "What happened?!"

"A story best left for another time," Harry said. Turning his attention back to Snape, he gave the man a surprisingly soft smile, "I get the feeling that one of my parents was one of your rivals. If that's the case, I'd happily fight you to settle whatever feud you had with them, whenever you wanted to." Before Snape could respond, Harry suddenly stood to his feet. "But we've already spent too much time here and we haven't even done what we wanted to do in the first place!"

"Aside from some lunch," Dudley agreed, also standing up and moving to follow his cousin as they moved back towards the Entrance Hall. Just before they reached the doorway to leave, both boys turned back to face their audience. "We originally came here to try and feel out the atmosphere, see if there were any potential students among you lot who would be interested."

"In case you haven't heard," Harry cut in as he dug into the folds of his gi. "Dudley and I have decided that we'd like to spread what we've learned, teach our brand of unique abilities to anyone of you kids who're interested in learning a new type of magic! This here—" he pulled out a large scroll that he partially unrolled to show it contained some writing upon it in the form of a contract. "Is the sign-up roster for those who would like to learn from us. There are only two requirements that must be met."

"Firstly," Dudley called out. "The applicants _must_ be between the years 13 and 19, no older or younger!" This produced a notable groan of unhappiness from the First and Second Years. "And secondly, _no wands are permitted!_ " This time, the outcry of the students was substantially louder and longer lasting. Dudley stepped forward, drawing his hands back before swinging them forward, producing a deafening _SLAP!_ as his hands hit. The students were silenced immediately.

"This second reason is because we have to keep within _certain_ Ministry-approved laws," Harry stated calmly. "If you lot have a problem with that, take it up with your local _Minister of Magic_. But I hear he's quite _furious_ with us at the moment for _some_ reason." The look of confusion on his face fooled no one. Shrugging to himself, he continued smiling, "Besides, even if you did manage to bring it, we wouldn't allow you use the wand anyway. After all, what we're going to be training you in _wandless_ magic."

"Sign me up!" Luna called out, raising her hand as though she were in a classroom. Both boys and even a few of the other students chuckled at that.

"We're going to be hanging this up in the Entrance Hall and we'll collect it in about a week's time," Dudley declared. "Be sure to _thoroughly_ read the fine print. This is a _magical contract_. Once you sign it, you will not be allowed to change your mind until we've determined you're ready. You've got a week's time to make up your minds. But be warned! What we have to instruct you in is _**NOTHING**_ like what you've been learning here!"

"That's right," Harry agreed, nodding his head solemnly. "We will not be _teaching_ you, we will be _training_ you. There is a _difference_. It will _not_ be in some classroom for one to two hours a day. It will be _all_ day, _six_ days a week, from immediately after school _gets out_ until school _starts up again_! In other words, _all—summer—long!_ "

With those ominous parting words, both boys turned and left the Great Hall. The tension was broken only a few moments later when Dudley suddenly scurried back in and said, "Oh, before I forget, we're also giving this offer to both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang next. Think on that!"

This time when he left, there was a raging din as both the students and Professors immediately started discussing everything that had just happened and the offer that was made…as well as the warnings that were given. Snape irritably returned to his seat at the head table. Though he was indeed quite angry, he was finding himself rather…contemplative at everything he'd just learned from and about the Potter boy.

* * *

The young man looked to be in his late teens or just entering his 20s, youthful and very handsome. Clad in a simple black cloak over a set of black trousers and shirt, he had the look of a boy who'd just recently graduated school and was likely in the process of searching for a job. With his handsome appearance, many would've mistaken him as being some kind of idol or had been very popular whilst in school. And while this was certainly true to an extent, he hadn't been to a magic school for years. Instead, he had taken a tour around the Wizarding World to learn all that there was to learn of magic. He had studied in the halls of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang for a few weeks each, searched through the fabled lost library of Ancient Greece for several months, briefly traveled the scorching sands of the Middle East, and even stopped in Northern Africa for a week. But his travels were abruptly cut short when his _father_ had discovered his existence and sent for him.

Now, he was just a face in the crowd, watching and listening. Despite his rather handsome and youthful appearance, most people didn't give him more than a passing, which was to his preference. He was presently standing on the edge of Tent City, seemingly gazing up towards the Quidditch Stadium and the magic castle beyond with a look of wistful yearning. Yet, that was only what people saw when they noticed him. In actuality, he was listening very closely to the passing wizards and witches as they spoke to one another. Nearby him, there was even a large bonfire around which a several dozen people were loitering, some even cooking up some campfire foods as they gossiped. And what _interesting_ gossip it was!

The primary gossip was mostly the same but seemed to bounce between three different subjects. Was the 'Salamander' really the lost Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter? Who the hell was the 'Saiyan' Dudley Dursley? And where— _oh_ _**where**_ —had they learned the mysterious magics they'd used earlier? The theories behind these simple questions varied from one person to the next, some seeming more plausible than others. However, no one had any answers and they were still scrounging up what few rumors they could glean from the chaos that the International Wizengamot had devolved into.

"There you are," a familiar voice spoke up as a small cloaked figure sidled up next to him. "Sorry it took so long, my lord. There's just so many people here."

"Indeed," he acknowledged with a slight bob of his head. "Tell me what you've learned, Draco."

"Yes, milord," Draco said. "It really _is_ him. I saw him, up close, in Hogwarts just under an hour ago." Seeing his superior's somewhat questioning expression, the Malfoy heir quickly elaborated, "Apparently he and his friend got bored and slipped away with no one noticing when the Wizengamot started arguing again."

"And being in Hogwarts?" he asked, his brow raised beckoningly.

"It seems that he has grown…arrogant," Draco said, pausing slightly as he floundered for a proper description of the Salamander. "He's decided that he wants to open some kind of summer school to teach his brand of magic to willing students. And many of the students are already signing up on the roster they left behind…myself included."

Despite himself, the young lord felt his brow raise further in surprise. "He's actually doing to teach others his secrets? What foolishness!"

"Perhaps, milord," Draco agreed, nodding deeply. "But from what I've seen last night, I doubt it's true _arrogance_ that motivates him. It feels more like…he wants _new_ opponents and enemies to fight against."

"Tell me," he demanded. "I hadn't seen it for myself. Is his magic a powerful as everyone's been saying or are those just embellished rumors as well?"

"If anything, they're _underestimating_ just how powerful he is, milord," Draco stated with a completely straight face. Digging through his pocket, he withdrew and offered a pair of omniculars. "I recorded the fight as best I could."

Smirking, he reached forward and took the omniculars for later viewing. "You said he's planning to open a school. What are the limits for applicants?"

"No wands and must be between 13 and 19."

"That's it?" he asked, blinking in surprise. "I'd have thought he'd impose _far_ more than just that."

"Actually, I think he's betting on the fact that most of them won't be able to handle what he has to teach," Draco stated. "You haven't seen it, but those boys are almost nothing like normal wizards. They fight mostly using their fists, with magic as a supplement and not the main weapon. I mean, the Saiyan has got arms that are even larger than my legs in size!"

"Surely you're joking," the young man said in a slightly deadpan voice. It was a voice very similar to his father's, one that hinted towards _considerable_ pain if his underling wasn't being totally truthful.

"I am being _very_ serious, Lord Delamort," Draco stated, looking up squarely into Delamort's eyes despite having his head somewhat bowed in submission. Gesturing towards the omniculars, he said, "Watch those, and I'm sure you'll understand."

Humming quietly, Delamort considered the boy as he pocketed the toy. "Very well. Anything else to report?"

"Harry and Dudley are also giving this offer to both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang as well, not _just_ Hogwarts," Draco continued, relaxing somewhat as he returned back to the subject of importance.

"Aaahhh, so _that's_ what they meant," Delamort purred as something clicked in his mind. Chuckling softly, he muttered, "He's even more _clever_ than I first thought! Quite _ingenious_ actually. Must take after his mother, if the rumors are true."

"Sir?" Draco asked hesitantly.

"There have been rumors and whispers floating about," Delamort elaborated easily. It wasn't like it was a secret after all. "That the boys did what they did in the Tournament in an attempt to draw all of the various Wizarding Ministries together so that they could 'sell them secrets'. And it's this that has caused all the arguments that are taking place there now."

"And even without the Ministries' approval," Draco said slowly as realization also dawned on him. "They are still going about making their offers to the children and those that would be interested. And since it's such an international event—"

"— _Everyone_ in all of Europe will soon be hearing about it," Delamort finished. "Like I said, quite ingenious."

"Yes…" Draco agreed, eyes wide as the true extent of Potter's plan because apparent to him. Then he rapidly snapped back to the present as he looked up pointedly at his superior. "Sir, I respectfully implore that you also signup for their classes."

"Oohh?" Delamort said, his eyebrow once again arching. "Any reason why?"

"What Potter has to teach is nothing to _dismiss_ ," Draco said strongly. "I may know nothing about it, but I do know that his is a new way of magic. Something… _different_ and _powerful_. If you had access to similar powers…surely _no one_ would be able to stand up to and stop you. Certainly not…" Here he hushed his voice greatly, making even Delamort have to strain to hear him properly. "…Certainly not your _father_ when you feel _ready_ to…take up his mantle…so to speak."

Although that type of talk would've earned Draco an hour-long torture session had any of the senior members heard it, Delamort felt a cruel smile cross his face. While he didn't necessarily like the Malfoy heir, too whiny and self-righteous, like his father in most regards, the boy certainly had the same streak of ambition that Delamort himself possessed. Both of them desired what their father's possessed, on some level, and both resented the fact that it'd still be many years yet before they were deemed ready to take what they felt was theirs. Of course, given what he knew of his _father_ , Delamort's situation in that regard was both far more complicated and much more simple of a problem that needed to be dealt with. And, unlike the Malfoy heir, Delamort was not inhibited by affection for or desiring approval from his parent.

"You make a valid point," Delamort acknowledged quietly, bobbing his head slightly. "Although, I shall reserve judgment until I've seen an example of his power and what he has to give."

It was Draco was nodding his head in affirmation to his Lord's statement that they became aware of something happening around them. The crowd milling about suddenly started speaking up just a bit more loudly, slowly beginning to drift to the side, towards the Black Lake. Looking around in confusion, both young wizards wondered what was happening. Reaching and grabbing a passing wizard who looked German in appearance, Delamort asked, "What is happening?"

"Come, come!" the German said in heavily accented English. "Boys gonna fight! Good show it be!"

Sharing another glance of confusion, both English wizards turned and followed the crowd. It was clearly something to do with the two newcomers, but what was happening?

* * *

"Quite a crowd we've gathered already," Harry remarked, glancing off to the side nonchalantly. "And we haven't even started yet!"

"Can you really blame them?" Dudley asked, smirking conceitedly. "We're just that awesome, Harry!"

The two boys stood on the shore of the large loch several paces away from one another, performing some light stretches to loosen up their muscles. This whole situation had started when one of the Muggleborns they were speaking to during their visit of the Beauxbatons carriage had asked them if they were truly _the_ Salamander and Saiyan they'd been hearing about all over the world news for the past few years. When they'd confirmed it, the student had instantly started gushing like a typical fangirl.

One thing led to another before several of the more arrogant Purebloods of the lot demanded a 'demonstration of their combat prowess', thinking that they weren't truly as powerful as the Muggleborns all believed them to be. In a need to not only defend their titles but to salvage their recruitment operation, of which the French school was proving infinitely more difficult than the British or Russian schools had been, the boys had agreed to have a little spar with each other. That way they could fight all-out with no holds barred.

' _Let's see them doubt us after_ _ **this**_ _!_ ' was the thought that was repeating through their minds as they finished their stretches and set themselves into their opening stances. Harry took up his preferred Taekwondo low guard stance and Dudley settled into his karate high guard stance.

For a long moment, neither boy moved, merely watching each other, gauging. They had fought so many times that they had long ago noticed and memorized each other's ticks and methods, using them to predict the other's movement and respond ahead of time. As they grew in power and skill, these little ticks became increasingly more important to them as they fought and scraped to claim a win against an opponent they were both frantic to have a decisive win over. They completely ignored their audience, most of whom were Purebloods and quickly losing patience with the apparent standoff that they were watching. They had come out here to see a _fight_ after all! Who were these two trying to impress by just _standing_ _there_ , glaring like—

 _ **SMASH!**_

A tremendous shockwave erupted between the two boys as they suddenly shot forward and clashed, smashing their forearms against each other. They had moved so impossibly quickly that none of the spectators, not even those who were actively trying to watch and follow their movements, could track them. They had simply vanished from their initial spots and reappeared almost instantaneously right next to each other. Needless the say, the shockwave instantly silenced all naysayers and hyper-focused everyone's attention squarely on the fight.

Straining against each other for a moment, both of them glaring at the other, fiery and golden auras erupted to life around them. Then, backing off by mutual agreement, they briefly resettled by into their stance again. This time, it was Harry who took the initiative, lunging forward with fiery fists. Bouncing backwards, Dudley kept his hands in a guard position, easily fending off Harry's punches and ignoring the burns of the fires from years of exposure. Then he abruptly twisted to the side while one of his legs shot upwards, knocking mightily into Harry's chest and driving the wind from his lungs. With a cry, Harry was flung backwards in a convulsing heap. Surprisingly, to the audience, he was still able to land on his feet in a long slide, kicking up dust as he slid along.

Pressing his advantage, Dudley leapt ten meters into the air and hovered there while gathering energy into his hands, hurling several baseball sized bolts towards Harry. Despite still being winded, Harry brought his hands back and gathered fire into his hand and along his arms. Sweeping them forward, great wings of fire were launched at the energy orbs with a cry of "Karyuu no Yokugeki!" The fires colliding with the orbs caused them to detonate prematurely, creating numerous loud explosions that sent strong gusts of wind outwards, buffeting the crowd.

Shooting forward through the smoke and din, Dudley raced towards his cousin, aura blazing brilliantly. Fires erupting under his feet, Harry shot upwards to meet his cousin in the air, fists cocked in preparation. With loud battle cries, they slammed into each other, their fists burying themselves into the other's abdomen and face. Recovering from the punch quicker, Harry spun around and lashed out with a fire-enhanced kick that sent Dudley flying backwards towards a cliff right next to Hogwarts. He wasted no time in blasting fire from both his hands and feet, shooting off after his recoiling opponent as swiftly as he could. Dudley slammed into the cliff with what _should've been_ bone-shattering force, making a crater roughly his size on impact. As he was pulling himself out of the crater, Harry arrived, smashing into Dudley's stomach and driving him deeper into the rock behind him. A massive dust cloud erupted around them as both boys continued their fight, multiple explosions and flashes of fire and energy piercing the deepening dust.

"H-H-How's that _possible?!_ " Delamort demanded, bracing himself with his arms up to instinctively shield his face from the strong winds, explosions, and din that the two boys were causing. A posture that many of the other spectators were mirroring. Despite his stance, however, his eyes were wide open, staring in disbelief as he witnessed something that he'd have never thought was possible before, even with magic's assistance! " _Twenty seconds_ into the fight, and _already_ they've _completely_ outclassed _anything_ even Dumbledore and Vol—You-Know-Who could _possibly_ accomplish!"

Then, before his very eyes, he watched as the boys shot upwards out of the dust they'd caused and landed on opposite sides of it on the rock ledge. Each boy was panting heavily, as was obvious by how much their chests were heaving and their arms wavering from the effort of keeping them up and ready. During this small intermission, a strong wind blew and dissipated the dust, revealing the extent of the damage they'd caused to the rock ledge they'd hit and fought in.

"No way!" Draco gasped, eyes wide. "One minute ago, there was a _rock ledge_ there! And now that those two are through, it's nothing but a _pile of pebbles!_ " Strangely, that was _not_ an exaggeration.

"It's true!" one of the younger Muggleborns was crying out excitedly. "It's really true! They really are the Salamander and the Saiyan!"

"I can't believe it!" another was yelling, equally enthralled. "They're really here!"

Delamort and Draco both shared confused glances. How could those children, _Muggleborns_ at that, possibly seem to know more about those two boys than the entirety of the Wizarding World? And that was definitely what they were hearing, judging by their excited tones of voice.

Before either boy could comment on that mystery, their thoughts were detracted by two shouts coming from the boys on the remains of the ledge.

"Kamehame!" Dudley was calling out, having dropped into a strange crouch, his hands cupped to his right hip with a brilliantly shining ball of blue-white energy forming between them. Thrusting his hands forward, he launched the ball forwards into a blinding beam of light that must've been easily ten times the size of any spell launched by a wand. " _HAAAAA!_ "

"Karyuu no!" Harry was chanting, sucking all of the ambient fire that was surrounding his body into his mouth. Bringing his hands up and cupping them in front of his mouth, he launched a long, deadly blaze of fire towards Dudley. Unlike his earlier fire blasts, this one was much more focused and held in a tighter formation. " _HOKOOOOO!_ "

The two attacks shot forwards and slammed into each other with incredible force. The sheer impact of the two blasts colliding sent out shockwaves that easily shattered the windows of Hogwarts and sent many of the closer spectators tumbling off their feet, causing a gaggle of bodies as they got entangled with the crowd behind, Draco and Delamort among them. The shockwaves naturally were able to churn up and knock back the nearby waters of the lake, causing multiple small tsunamis to go crashing against the far shore.

Angrily shoving an especially fat witch off of him, Delamort climbed back to his feet just in time to watch as the two powerful attacks suddenly combusted in a titanic explosion. Seizing his wand as he braced himself, Delamort threw up a hurried shield charm, just in time to protect him the overwhelming explosive force as it reached him. He ended up being one of the very few who managed to not get swept several dozen meters away, despite the distance between him and the boys. The deafening din of the explosion had scarcely even had a chance to peter out before multiple, smaller ones started getting kicked up. Opening his eyes that he'd unintentionally shut for the duration of the explosion, Delamort watched in growing fascination as the boys once again clashed in a frenzied fist fight the likes of which he'd never seen before.

It was in this moment that Delamort found himself contemplating something he'd never done before. All of his life, he'd had to fight and scrape to get anything. He'd grown up in a terrible orphanage, bullied by the other children there and tormented by the adults who seemed to have a special hatred towards him for reasons he didn't understand. He had always known he was different. That he could do things that his peers there could never hope to. But it wasn't until he was visited by a wizarding professor and told of his gift in magic that he'd finally felt that his life was going to start improving.

He was eager to prove to everyone, especially himself, that he wasn't trash, a throwaway dumpster baby. That his life had meaning and that, once he'd been properly taught, he'd bring about a change to the world, make it better than the dark places he'd known all of his life. His childish hopes and dreams were entirely dashed when he'd arrived at his school and been Sorted into one of the Houses. He found that, if anything, the magical children were even worse than the bullies at the orphanage. It hadn't taken him long to dedicate his life to becoming the greatest wizard of all time, greater even than the legendary wizards Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Voldemort. His ambition was massive, topped only by his incredible skill with magic, that was completely unrivaled by any of his peers, despite their many attempts to prove otherwise.

However, he'd quickly come to the realization that what he sought could not be found in school. Not in Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, _anywhere_ where the standard curriculum was taught. He always desired _more_ , to be _better_ , to be _**greater**_. He didn't just want it, he needed it! He needed to prove that he had risen far above that from which he'd originated from. So, he left his school and went on that journey around the Wizarding World, seeking out the esoteric, the arcane, and the mythical. But no matter how hard he searched, he just couldn't find that which he truly sought. And sadly, before he could put his plans of exploring farther east, venturing into the unknown lands of the Orient, he had been inexplicably found his _dear father_ , who'd been able to somewhat predict his motives and movements, having undergone a similar journey of discovery when he was of a similar age himself. Once he'd been brought back to Britain and met his father, Delamort had been forced to put any further travel plans of his on permanent hiatus since his _dear father_ didn't want him out wandering where he couldn't keep an eye on him.

But now… Could it be…? Could it be _possible?_ Could it be possible that his _father's_ greatest foe (and thus _technically_ his own by association) had somehow discovered or… _created_ that which he'd been seeking all this time? If so… A small smile of true joy began to slowly creep across the young man's face as he continued to behold the scene that he knew he'd never forget for the rest of his life. It was in that moment, watching the clash between two cousins that was literally ripping the landscape apart and sending wizards and witches alike flying like leaves in a hurricane, that Delamort knew what he was going to do next. And the world would never be the same again.

Sliding to a halt on the new beach that they'd unintentionally created, both boys reflexively slid into their ready stances again, heaving for breath heavily. Their uniforms were filthy and torn in various places. Dudley was missing one of his shoes and that same foot was also lightly burned. Harry had a large burn mark on his forehead where an errant energy blast had struck him, the entire left portion of his gi top was blown off and his shoulder on that side was covered in bloody scrapes and muddy dust.

"So…" Harry said, glancing slightly to the side. "Think that's…enough of a…demonstration?"

Also glancing over towards the now substantially smaller crowd, Dudley chuckled weakly. "Haha…hahaha…Yeah, I think…it is… Uncle?"

"Uncle," Harry agreed, relaxing out of his ready stance as did Dudley. Harry then dropped limply to the ground, just barely managing to prevent himself from falling onto his back, instead leaning into a deep huddled over crouch. Dudley likewise collapsed down to one knee, both hands shooting out to catch himself as he started tilting just a bit too far forward. Both boys held their poses for several long moments, just trying to catch their breaths.

Looking over towards the crowd as he sensed something, Harry's gaze landed onto one young wizard in particular. Though they must've been almost five hundred meters away from each other, Harry could easily see the restrained awe and…desire in his gaze. A desire that Harry knew all too well. That was a gaze that he's seen many times over the past few years, whenever he met fans who had true warrior hearts and were seeking a way to bring it out (whether intentionally or unknowingly). This wizard had the eyes of a man hungry for strength, for power, for…acknowledgement.

"Look, Dud," Harry muttered quietly, drawing Dudley's gaze. "I think I just found our first student."

Glancing over, Dudley easily saw the same things that Harry did. A strange smile crossed Dudley's face. "Yeah…That one's gonna be…interesting to train."

"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?!" a loud, angry voice screamed with a Sonorous-enhancement as several dozen Aurors on broomsticks appeared in the air over them.

"Annnnd they're back," the boys groaned, knowing that the fun and games were over.

For now…

* * *

 **(Author's Note)** Wow, this chapter just got away from me. Between writing the dialogue, plotting out a certain character's background, and then the 'little sparring match', I completely lost track of just how long this chapter had become! And yet, I can't help but feel that I'm cutting it off prematurely, telling only half of the story that I wanted to share. I hope that you guys can infer what is implied and what wasn't blatantly pointed out to you, because I really don't wanna waste time doing such things later on.

I really wish I didn't have to do this, because it feels too much like begging, but given the complete lack I've been getting, I suppose I have no choice. PLEASE - LEAVE - REVIEWS! How am I supposed to know what you guys like, don't like, want to see happen, or get new ideas if you guys don't tell me what I'm doing right, wrong, needs improvement, or just stop doing! Thus, I'll say it again: PLEASE LEAVE REVIEWS!

And lastly, big time thanks to my two betas: **badassumbreon** and **Fiori57.**


	5. Terms of Agreement

**The Magic Revolution**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
 _#05: Terms of Agreement_

 **June 27, 2015  
London**

It was nearly eight o'clock when he was finally able to park his car in its designated parking spot. Although they now lived in the high-end community of the rich and famous, Vernon still maintained his old habit of always locking his car doors after he parked and left. Even here, the threat of theft or other… _activities_ was still there and he refused to make a would-be assailant's job easier. Hefting up his briefcase full of confidential files and paperwork, he turned and walked towards his most recent abode. Despite himself, he couldn't stop the proud grin from crossing his face as he gazed up at the massive skyscraper. As reluctant as he was to admit it, things had been steadily improving for him and his family ever since that fateful business trip to Japan.

Riding the elevator up to the floor his family's new flat was on, his thoughts idly drifted over his day and the workload that he still had yet to complete, though it wasn't nearly as bad as it could've been. Thankfully, the higher-ups of his company Grunnings hadn't sent him on any international business trips for the last few weeks. He had long since made it a part of his job to bring the boys with him on those trips, giving his beloved son and… _weird_ nephew a chance to see more of the world and overawe the crowds wherever they went. Granted, since they were young, impulsive, hyperactive boys with a reckless streak as wide as Asia, those business trips tended to get quite expensive for Vernon due to mass collateral damage the boys always seemed to cause. Thankfully, they had started restraining their more destructive impulses away from the normal world, focusing them more on the Freaks and their little 'paradise'. Just the thought of all of the headaches his son must've and likely will continue to cause those self-righteous, pompous wizards always brought a grin to his face.

"I'm home, dear," Vernon called out as he entered his flat, kicking off his black leather designer shoes and setting his briefcase on the nearby countertop and undressing from his business suit and overcoat.

"Welcome home, honey," his wife answered back from where she was presently seated in a very cushy recliner chair, fiddling with an iPad in her lap. She didn't look up from what she was doing, too focused on whatever was on the screen. But Vernon paid her lack of attention no mind, it wasn't the first time in recent years that she had been curt and even cold towards him. "Dinner is in the fridge."

Finding the plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans, he quickly passed the cool food into the nearby microwave before returning to collect his briefcase. By the time he'd returned, his plate was done and he quickly hoisted the hot plate onto his briefcase like a tray, carrying both down the hall and into his personal study. As he settled into his desk, getting set up for finishing his work while having his dinner, Vernon couldn't but sigh. As much as he truly enjoyed his recent promotions, higher paychecks, and overall greater standards of living from being so rich, it was times like these he missed the old days. Back when they still lived in Number 4 Privet Drive, Surrey. Back then, he and Petunia had been on much better terms and had time to spare just being together. But they had started drifting apart as Vernon became more and more involved in Grunnings higher operations, international negotiations, and dealing with the consequences of the boys whenever they 'cut loose'.

He was just finishing scraping his plate clean while marking the last spreadsheet when the doorbell rang. Quickly setting the stuff aside, Vernon climbed to his feet and trudged his way back to the door.

 _Ding-Dong!_ Apparently, whoever was at the door was rather impatient, having the bell ring again after less than ten seconds of wait. "I'm coming! Keep your breeches on!"

Throwing the door open, he glared heatedly at the withered old face of a man who must've been no less than 100 years old, if the long white beard was anything to go by. Without giving the old man a chance to speak, Vernon just bluntly said, "What did they blow up _this time_?"

"I'm sorry?" the man asked, blinking in surprise and confusion.

"What did my son and nephew do to have you come knocking at my door at this hour of the night?" Vernon said, speaking slowly and somewhat louder as though the old man had a hearing problem, which, given his obvious age, he might've.

For just a few moments, the man just continued to stare at Vernon, his gaze still surprised for some reason. But then he visibly recollected himself and said, "... They interrupted an international tournament and wrecked my school's Quidditch pitch."

Blinking at the strange word, Vernon narrowed his eyes as his tired mind finally processed the obvious fact that the old man was wearing clothes that no _normal_ person would ever be caught dead wearing. "... Wait, before this goes any further, you're a wizard, right?"

"Yes," the old man nodded, looking pleased that Vernon had finally managed to connect the dots.

"Oh, well then, I don't care," So saying, Vernon slammed the door shut in the old wizard's face without a trace of regret. Indeed, he had a rather prominent grin on his face as he turned away to leave.

"Who was it, dear?" Petunia called as she exited the bathroom, clad in an extravagantly fluffy robe as she walked towards her bedroom to get dressed.

"Just some old wizard coming to complain again," Vernon replied. _Ding-Dong!_ "And, _apparently_ , he won't leave just yet."

Throwing the door back open, Vernon growled out, "Look, _whoever you are_ , it's _late_ , I've had a _long day_ at the office, and I _really_ want to go to _sleep! Come back_ _ **tomorrow**_ _!_ "

"I'm afraid that I must insist we talk now, Mr. Dursley," the old man said, his eyes narrowing slightly as a displeased frown crossed his lips. "I need to explain the ramifications of what's happened so that you will be ready when the Ministry eventually comes to speak to you themselves." Growling in a rather intimidating manner, Vernon glared heatedly at the wizard but eventually acquiesced to the not-quite-demand for entry. "Thank you."

"Who are you and why is this so important?" Vernon demanded, moving to stand over by the island in the center of the kitchen. He casually leaned back on it, one of his hands straying over towards the top drawer where he'd hidden a pistol for emergencies.

"Ah, forgive me, my name is Albus Dumbledore," the old man introduced with a wan smile, trying to seem polite and apologetic. Vernon didn't buy his act for a second. "As for why I'm here, it's as I already said. Two boys whom I'm sure you're familiar with showed up and interrupted a very important international magical tournament between mine and two other schools. Needless to say, this act has drawn the ire of the entire Wizarding World throughout all of Europe."

"I still fail to see why this is so important," Vernon stated bluntly, if honestly. "This isn't the first international tournament they've thrown into chaos, nor the first time they've gotten into trouble with your precious world either."

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded, silently filing away that tidbit of the tournament away for further examination later. "But this time, unlike those others I'm sure, they were captured and are being held on trial with criminal charges."

Vernon just stared at Dumbledore, his eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly as his grip tightened on the drawer faintly. "Again, I fail to see why it's important. Allow me to reiterate: _this—_ _ **isn't**_ _—the—_ _ **first—**_ _time_."

Dumbledore blinked, clearly surprised at the notion that such powerhouses as the boys could've been caught by the government ( _any_ government, actually) before. At least, that's what Vernon assumed had caught him by surprise. And, as annoying as it was when it happened, Vernon couldn't help but feel his pride in his son spike slightly. Truly, his son was something very special to have gotten into so many wild and bizarre adventures and come out on top each and every time…eventually and despite mass collateral damage.

"Vernon, has the wizard left ye—IT'S YOU!" Petunia shrieked as she entered the kitchen, now dressed in her pajamas, and spotted the rather unmistakable form of her sister's old mentor. Vernon and Dumbledore couldn't help wincing at woman's unbelievable pitch and volume of her shriek. Before either man could recover his hearing properly, the Dursley woman immediately continued, " _WHAT THE_ _ **BLOODY HELL**_ _TOOK YOU_ _ **SO LONG?!**_ _I'VE BEEN_ _ **WAITING**_ _FOR YOU TO_ _ **COME**_ _AND_ _ **FIND US**_ _ **FOREVER**_ _ **!**_ "

"Mrs. Dursley," Dumbledore said, having to speak rather loudly to heard over her. "Could you please speak more quietly? I am old, not deaf." Despite her continued glowering at the elderly wizard, she gave the man a stiff nod. "Now, what is the meaning of this? Why have you been waiting for me?"

"It's all the _Freak's_ _fault!_ " Petunia cried out, ignoring Vernon's slight glare. This was an old argument they'd been having for the past few years now. "Ever since he missed his school letter, he's been _infecting_ and _contaminating_ my son – _my precious son!_ – with his _freaky, unnatural magic!_ _**Do something!**_ _Make him_ _ **stop!**_ _Change my Dudley_ _ **back to normal!**_ "

"Petunia, you _know_ it _doesn't_ work like that!" Vernon said instantly, overriding whatever Dumbledore was going to say. The old man wisely chose to keep quiet, watching and listening as husband and wife argued in front of him. "The boys have explained it to us, _multiple times_ , that what Dudley's doing has _nothing_ to do with Harry and his freaky magic! Dudley uses the power of his _body and soul!_ You _know_ this! And I _doubt_ even a wizard can use his magic to affect a man's _soul_ like what you want to have happen!"

' _Ah, the ignorance of a Muggle is truly a blissful thing_ ,' Albus couldn't help thinking to himself forlornly. He himself actually knew of no less than ten different spells that could affect a person's soul in some manner and had at least academic knowledge of almost two dozen more. ' _So, somehow, the Dursley boy has found a way to…_ _use_ _the power of his soul to do the things he can do? Interesting. And,_ _ **technically**_ _, not magical in the slightest bit. Remarkable, actually! But does this mean that Harry's powers are identical to that?_ '

A frown crossed Dumbledore's expression at the thought. Although he might've been academically familiar with most known types of soul magic, he had never dabbled in it himself. Tampering with one's soul was not something to be done lightly, if ever. And, based on certain historical figures and ancient facts, a wizard using his soul as a power source to boost his magic might gain a nearly inconceivable spike in raw power but that person would end up as a mere shell of their former selves. ' _This could prove very problematic of weening the boy off such a power, if so. Soul magic is such a very seductive and addictive drug._ '

"You don't know that!" Petunia was busy ranting at her husband as Dumbledore was momentarily lost in his thoughts. "Wizards are _freaks_ who frolic in things they _shouldn't!_ I _know_ they can do something to help turn Dudley back to _normal!_ " Turning her attention back to Dumbledore, who was now rising from his thoughts and paying attention again, she practically spat out, "I _know_ you know of something! _Now—_ _ **fix**_ _him!_ "

"I am afraid it is out of my hands, Mrs. Dursley," Dumbledore admitted, looking and sounding every bit the remorseful old man. "Alas, I have lost _much_ political power over these last few years and am now in no position to even speak with the people who _might_ have the knowledge and ability to… 'help' your son, if he even wanted it." Then, shifting his gaze between the two of them, he couldn't contain his curiosity anymore. "But, please, if you could somehow tell me of how the boys managed to become so…powerful in the first place, I might be able to find a way to…channel them down _better_ paths, and eventually back to more _normal_ ways of life."

That last bit was added pointedly for Petunia's peace of mind. Huffing, the woman glared heatedly at Dumbledore, as though he'd just insulted her at a deeply personal level by seemingly flat-out refusing to help her. Turning on her heel, she stormed out of the kitchen, up to her own bedroom, and slammed the door in anger. The two men waited quietly for a few seconds, before returning their attentions back to one another.

"I must admit to being rather surprised with you, Mr. Dursley," Dumbledore admitted, bowing his head slightly. "From everything I knew of you from several years ago, I'd have thought that you'd be having a similar reaction to all this as your wife."

"It hasn't been easy," Vernon admitted, feeling some of his tension easing out of him despite his continued suspicion. Petunia was a lot more difficult to deal with than Dumbledore, or any other wizard he'd had to deal with recently. " _Most_ parents have to worry about their children getting drunk and accidentally crashing their car in a tree or pole. _**I**_ have to worry about the boys getting drunk, or even just _bored_ , and accidentally demolishing a city because ' _that statue looked at me funny_ '. Pfft!" Despite himself, Dumbledore couldn't help blinking at that statement before a reluctant smile crossed his aged face. Indeed, that type of 'rationale' was typical of what a drunk would say.

"But things have been improving for us quite nicely ever since their first little stunt," Vernon continued, waving his hand about in a sweeping gesture, indicating the unmistakably nicer and more expensive living space they now owned in comparison to Privet Drive.

"Could you tell me about that?" Dumbledore asked again, subtly putting on his grandfatherly mask and gently prodding the man's mind to make him more amendable to explaining the boy's lost history. "How and when did they start down this path? What happened to make them so…rambunctious and reckless? Why hasn't Harry come to Hogwarts and why didn't he receive his admittance letter?"

Snorting, Vernon smirked condescendingly at the old man. "You really are desperate for information, aren't you, old man?" Seeing Dumbledore's continued stare, he gaze a long, suffering sigh as he said, "Fine, I'll tell you what I can."

Dumbledore wasted no time in conjuring a fluffy recliner chair right where he was standing in the center of the kitchen and took a seat. Shaking his head at that in annoyance, Vernon silently thanked God that Harry no longer seemed interested in learning how to do ridiculous stuff like that anymore. Taking a seat in one of the kitchen table's chairs, he said, "I don't know much about how it happened, but I do know when it started. Back when he was 8, Dudley decided that he wanted to learn how to fight. He had been watching a lot of fighting cartoons on the telly at the time and had become enamored with them. So, I enrolled him and Harry both in a nearby martial arts school. I hadn't thought that Dudley would stay interested in it for very long, he just wasn't that active of a child back then, happier to sit around and watch the telly than go out and play. So, imagine my surprise when I come home from work two months later to find the boys actually sparring and training with one another in the backyard! And it looked like they were having fun while doing it!"

"You say that like they didn't like spending time with one another beforehand," Dumbledore remarked, surprised by that revelation.

"Because they _didn't_ ," Vernon stated bluntly. "Dudley had his own group of friends and Harry mostly kept to himself when he could." Okay, maybe that was stretching it a bit, but that didn't make it any less true from a certain point of view. "Anyway, their sensei—er, martial arts teacher—eventually got ahold me and told me that the boys were a pair of prodigies despite being so young and he wanted to take their training to the next level, give them more advanced classes and lessons." Seeing Dumbledore's curious and somewhat suspicious gaze, Vernon said, "Normally, for kids their age, it should take them at least four more years before they were ready for that level of training. But the sensei said that was not the case for them, that they were ready now, that they had untapped potential that he wanted to bring out. I agreed with his proposition since he was willing to give a discount on these advanced classes and because the boys started begging me once they found out. Fast forward three years and their sensei has decided that they were strong and skilled enough to start participating in local tournaments against rival martial arts schools."

"I take that they did well in these tournaments," Dumbledore said, now starting to get a clearer picture of where this was heading.

"They won each and every tournament they competed in," Vernon said, smiling with pride at the memories of those early victories, especially the ones his son had won. "They did so incredibly well that their sensei decided that they were capable of participating in the upcoming World Martial Arts Tournament that was being held in Japan that year."

"This tournament was taking place in 2011, correct?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Vernon nodded. "I believe it started on August 1 and we had to leave several days earlier to get there in time." Vernon failed to notice Dumbledore's look of forlorn resignation. No wonder Harry had missed his acceptance letter, he hadn't even been in the country when it was mailed! "The tournament coincided quite nicely with a recent business venture my company was making at the time. And since I was already going to be traveling to Japan, my company had nominated me to be their spokesman for our Japanese clients over there. Things hadn't been going too well for me at the time. I had an important meeting on the day of the tournament and couldn't attend. Looking back on it, it was actually a very good thing I didn't."

Dumbledore couldn't stop himself any longer. His curiosity and mounting worry finally overpowered his self-restraint. He silently cast out a tendril of Legilimency and entered into Vernon's memory as it played out the event as he remembered it.

 _Vernon was seated in a long office with a number of Japanese officials. The fat British man looked distinctly uncomfortable, fidgeting and eyes glancing every which way whenever one of the Japanese would begin speaking in their native language that he didn't understand. Still, he at least had a translator available to him who sat nearby and was murmuring soft translations for him. It turned out that the Japanese head honcho was speaking to the others about his family, specifically his teenage son who was participating in the World Martial Arts Tournament._

 _Vernon realized that the businessman was himself an enthusiast of such tournaments as a spectator, and had been disappointed that he had to make this deal rather than watch the various fights as well. But evidently the man also remembered that Vernon hadn't been participating in his and his coworkers little conversations and decided it wasn't polite to exclude him. When Vernon reluctantly admitted that his own son and nephew were also partaking in the tournament, he was quite surprised when the Japanese all smiled happily. The next couple of minutes was a slight blur as they brought in a telly and flipped through the various channels until they found one that was covering the tournament._

 _At first, Vernon had been confused by all this. But then his translator explained to him what he hadn't understood. That when he had mentioned his family was also in the tournament, the businessman had changed his opinion on Vernon. Vernon had moved out of the camp of 'someone who is making him miss a favorite past time' and was now 'someone suffering right alongside him'. To compound Vernon's confusion, the businessman declared that no young man should try his hardest for international fame and not at least have their father watching in spirit. Hence why the telly had been pulled in, complete with English subs for Vernon read._

Dumbledore took one look at what the telly was showing and found himself horrified beyond all reason for there, right on _international television_ , he could see an 11-year-old Harry with flaming fists locked in fierce combat with his cousin who was lobbing small balls of energy at him. Following a relatively small explosion, both boys skidded to a stop on opposite side of the fighting arena they were in, heaving for breath.

 _Dudley crouched down into a stance with his hands cupped at his right hip, forming a bright ball of blue-white energy as Harry hefted his hands over his head, creating a rather large ball of fire over them. With shouts, both boys launched their attacks at one another, which collided with one another. For several agonizing seconds, the two attacks battled one another for supremacy before spontaneously exploding. When the smoke cleared, it revealed that both boys had been knocked clear out of the ring by the explosive backlash of the attacks, disqualifying both of them._

" _Those are yours?" the awe in the Japanese translator's voice was further highlighted by his wide and thoughtful eyes. All of the men in the room turned and looked deep at Vernon, contemplation written all over their serious demeanors._

" _...Er, umm, ah yes. Yes. The blond one is my son, Dudley, and that's his cousin, Harry," Vernon stumbled, not quite sure how to salvage this. The Boys! They had ruined this! Destroyed the deal that would have made his career. He didn't know how the freak had corrupted Dudley, but when he got his hands on him, he'd—_

" _Hmm, good. I shall buy drills from Grunnings," the Japanese boss man said, easily cutting off Vernon's internal rant quite abruptly._

" _W-What?" Vernon stammered, understandably confused._

" _When a company sends the Father of Dragons to make a deal with you, you respond with courtesy, politeness, and agreement," the man answered, speaking surprisingly clear English. "To do otherwise is to risk misfortune."_

"…I see," Dumbledore mumbled as he rapidly retreated from Vernon's memories. With the experience of decades, he was able to push his thoughts aside and continue his earlier conversation smoothly, as though the mental invasion had never occurred. "When was the first time you realized that they were…different?"

"During the tournament," Vernon stated. "As I said, I don't how or when they started, but it was at the tournament they showed just how incredible they really were. And although they were disqualified in the Quarterfinals, they may as well have been fighting the Finals themselves. No one seemed to care who won the tournament after their little match, as you probably guessed. They were such a big hit, we had decided to extend our stay in Japan into a month-long vacation before I was called back home. After that, I was made into the company's new international ambassador and whenever I got sent overseas, I took the boys with me. I suppose you could call them my good luck charms, heheh, despite how much damage and trouble they cause."

"Why haven't you tried to rein in those destructive impulses of theirs?" Dumbledore asked, concerned about the answer.

"They are _teenaged boys_ ," Vernon said, as though that explained everything. "They'll do as they please, when they please, and no one will be able to talk them out of it." Looking closely at Dumbledore, his eyes narrowed contemplatively. "I thought you lived in a _school_. At least, that's what Petunia told me once. Shouldn't you _know_ this about teenagers?"

Coughing slightly into his hand to hide a small flush of embarrassment, Dumbledore took a second to recollect himself. "Very well, I guess that explains somewhat how they came to be who and what they are now. But can you tell me anything you might know of what they intended to do with this latest stunt of theirs? Why would they chose to interrupt our tournament? Why would Harry wish to return to the Wizarding World now and not sooner? I assume you did tell him about the Wizarding World…correct?"

Vernon looked somewhat sheepishly guilty for a second, though Dumbledore restrained himself delving into his mind again. After collecting himself for a moment, Vernon said, "Let's just say that their first experience with your precious world was not a pleasant one. I assume you've heard about that fiasco in the Moscow Airport? Some lunatic thought the boys were Wizards who were gallivanting around as 'cartoon heroes' in public and decided to get rid of them because they were spreading their 'unnatural freakiness' to the world around them. The man sent a _dragon_ after us! And after Harry managed to kill it, we suddenly found ourselves being attacked by those Russian wizards. Though the boys tried to explain themselves, the wizards wouldn't give them a chance to talk and just started attacking them as well. We barely managed to escape and hide until the Russian army arrived and took control. By then, the wizards had already dragged the dragon's corpse off, cleaned up or altered most of the mess, and brainwashed everyone else into forgetting the whole incident! And you wonder _why_ Petunia and I hate you freaks?!"

Despite himself, Dumbledore found himself sympathizing with the Muggle man in this instance. The Russian Aurors were known for their habit of attacking first and questioning later, a holdover from Russia's time as the Soviet Union. So the fact that they'd assume the worst and start attacking two remarkable boys like that was perfectly understandable to Dumbledore, even if he didn't agree with it.

"Very well, I can see how such an experience might've soured Harry's opinion of our world," Dumbledore agreed, nodding. "But still, why choose now to return? Why make such a big spectacle of themselves? Surely, they must've mentioned _something_ to you about it. I doubt you'd just allow them to run off whenever they wished. As you said, they are still teenage boys and they need stern discipline for when they get into mischief."

"All I know is that the boys had been complaining a lot lately that they haven't had any real challenges to fight against, excluding each other," Vernon said, shrugging his shoulders, showing he didn't care one way or another. "That and how much fun they could have by ' _smashing_ the hornet's nest that is the Wizarding World' as they call it."

If he'd been concerned before, now Dumbledore was truly scared. While the wording of that phrase could mean any number of things, whether figuratively or literally, it hinted at the fact that the boys clearly had a plan. They had a plan and only they seemed to be aware of the full details of what it entailed. ' _I feel like I'm witnessing the beginnings of a resurgence back to the days of Gellert and his fanatics! They have already exposed…some magic to the Muggles and now they're flaunting their gifts in the Wizarding World. Are they trying to_ _ **instigate a war**_ _so that they can have 'new challenges' to fight for the_ _ **fun**_ _of it?! No, I cannot—_ _ **will not**_ _allow that to happen!_ '

Standing up abruptly, Dumbledore bowed slightly to Vernon, who'd been somewhat startled by the old man's sudden movement. "Thank you for your time and explanations, Mr. Dursley. You have given me much to think on. I pray that you can weather the storm that is coming your way thanks to the boys' actions these past few days." Turning, he walked to the door and left, his recliner vanishing into nothingness as he Apparated back to Hogwarts.

"Hmph, damn wizard," Vernon muttered angrily. "Claims to come to offer advice, but only cares about his own agenda and fishing for information on the boys." Then a slight smirk crossed his face as he turned and looked over at a painting that hung on the wall. It was a truly beautiful painting of a Japanese-styled house and dojo, surrounded by snowy trees with a rising sun on the horizon. Oh yes, he knew quite a bit more about the boys' plans than he claimed to. And, as much as he somewhat disapproved of them, the fact that the boys planned on stirring up trouble and pissing off those self-righteous bastards of the Wizarding World was more than enough to gain the Vernon Dursley Stamp of Approval™ for their ventures.

As he turned away from the painting, he muttered, "The damn fool won't even know what hit him until it's too late. Heheheheh!"

* * *

 **Hogwarts**

The sun was slowly sinking beyond the horizon, spreading a wide array of reds and oranges through the sky as night slowly began to creep across the landscape. As the chill night began to settle in, the two martial artists looked around with raised brows at their audience. The atmosphere of the International Wizengamot had changed drastically. The disparity was as distinct as the differences between night and day.

The last time the boys had been forcefully seated and chained to their persecution chairs before the various Ministers and their numerous bureaucrats. The aforementioned Wizarding leaders had been feeling pretty good about themselves, feeling that they were the ones in control, who had held the powers of life and death, with justifiable cause and reason to sentence the two rowdy, disrespectful, _mildly_ powerful, and obscenely self-important teenage boys to prison for the rest of their short lives. Or, failing that, to completely erase their memories and recreate new and improved identities for them that would be much more submissive and respectful to the Wizarding World's culture, laws, and especially the various Ministries of Magic.

But now the many thousands of Wizards and Witches present knew and _understood_ just who was truly in charge. They had known the boys were powerful, strong enough to combat against the greatest of Wizarding Europe's magical schools, their esteemed and respected Headmasters, and a small collection of Aurors before they'd suddenly surrendered. But _knowing_ they were strong was quite different to _seeing_ just how strong that was. They had known, on an academic level, that they were stronger than any singular Wizard had any right to be. But now they'd bore witness to the two of them fighting against one another with all of their abilities and powers, completely unrestrained. In the span of less than five minutes, they had wrought more devastation than even the hours-long duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald back during World War II. And if the boys were so casually powerful as to perform at such obscenely high levels while in a simple _spar_ , just what chance did even an international task force of several thousand Aurors have to stand against them?

Thus, now understanding that they were actually and truly at the mercies of the boys' whims, many of the formerly confident and arrogant Wizards who'd been in attendance were now almost literally shaking in terror as they were forced to once again participate in this court hearing. Many were so irrationally terrified of somehow unintentionally or accidentally setting the boys off and drawing their ire that many of the crowd just sat there in their seats as still and silent as marble statues.

The distinct silence and the permeating aura of fear that saturated the area was so thick that it could've been cut with a knife. And it wasn't missed by either of the boys, who were once again seated in a new pair of chairs on the dais that they'd formerly been chained to.

"Tsk, what's their problem?" Dudley asked bluntly, cocking his head slightly as he looked over the crowd. While it was kinda funny seeing them jump just from a glance, it was also somewhat annoying and more than a little ridiculous. "It's like they think we're suddenly going to incinerate the stadium for no reason at all!"

"Well, you did threaten to do just that last night," Harry pointed out nonchalantly, slouching back in his chair with an air of disinterest about him. "Can you blame them for being scared witless after seeing just how awesome we are?"

"I don't mind a little respect," Dudley snapped, glaring slightly at Harry. "But cowering like misbehaving children about to be scolded by their parents? That's not just disrespectful, it's stupid!"

"I'm not _arguing_ with you," Harry replied calmly. "I'm just trying to explain _why_ they're being idiots."

"RESUMING THE WIZENGAMOT HEARING," Lucius said. The blonde man was once again seated in his spot and looking around to ensure that all necessary personnel were present, he continued, "YOU BOYS HAVE SPOKEN OF TEACHING US THE SECRETS OF YOUR MAGIC, COULD YOU CLARIFY WHAT YOU MEANT BY THAT?"

"You'll have to be more specific than that, blondie!" Dudley called out, grinning up at the white-blonde man.

"What do you want us to talk about first?" Harry interjected quickly. "Who's eligible for training and why? Where are we going to do this? How much is this going to cost you? What are we going to be teaching them specifically? Why are we doing this to begin with? There's a whole lot that needs to be discussed after all. Where do you wanna start?"

"LET'S START WITH _WHAT_ YOU'RE PLANNING TO TEACH OUR CANDIDATES FIRST," the Norwegian Minister, Pyotr Balchen, said calmly.

"Well, this'll probably make you lot rather happy," Dudley chirped, grinning cheekily. "We've already agreed that we will be doing nothing to interfere with their regular education in any way. Don't worry about them using magic around 'Muggles'. Where we are going to be teaching them is out in the middle of nowhere. Plus, we're making it a _requirement_ that any and all students _**must**_ leave their wands at home. After all, it's international law that no underage Wizards and Witches are allowed to use wand-magic outside of school."

Rather than be relieved, this statement earned numerous frowns of disapproval, for several reasons. Chiefly among them, for the Ministers, was the thought that by the students leaving their wands behind, they wouldn't be able to use the Trace Charm to locate where they were being taught these lessons in magic or even what this magic would imply. Being able to remotely detect the spells used, whether by a person, near them, or on them, through the use of the Trace Charm was an incredibly useful tool for undercover government agents and spies by their respective Ministries. The fact that the students wouldn't be allowed to bring their wands meant that the Ministries would have a far lesser chance of remotely monitoring what was happening. But the worst part was, whether knowingly or not, the boys had played the law to their advantage in such way that the adults couldn't even refute it without sounding like hypocrites.

For once, the law against underage magic had come up to bite them in the ass.

"THAT IMPLIES THAT YOU ARE GOING TO BE TEACHING _CHILDREN_ YOUR MAGIC, NOT GROWN AND RESPONSIBLE _ADULTS_ ," the Spanish Minister, Alejandro Zapatero, spat.

"But of course!" Dudley stated, sharing a knowing grin with Harry before the boys returned their attentions to the assembly.

"There is a justifiable reason to that," Harry spoke up, his expression serious as he looked around at the collected delegates. "Children and even teenagers have a much more open and accepting mind to new ideas and radical changes. If we were to say that everything you guys know about magic is _dead wrong_ , a kid would much more easily accept that truth and move on. Whereas an adult, who's spent his _whole life_ centered around these beliefs, will fight tooth and nail to prove _**us**_ wrong and completely ignore or twist everything else we try to teach until they've justified their beliefs."

" _Look at you guys!_ " Dudley barked out harshly, gesturing towards the frown masses. " _Even now_ , with just that _little_ bit, you're _**already**_ trying to think of ways to tell us that we're wrong and that we must abide by what _you_ believe! Trying to educate _you lot_ on the _basics_ of there being higher mysteries of magic and energy will be chore enough and we don't want to have to repeat it again and again and again during the summer to some prats you lot try to hoist off on us to train! _That's_ why we want to teach the children first!"

"I WILL NOT HAVE ANY CHILD OF SPAIN BE ANYWHERE NEAR YOU AND YOUR CORRUPTIVE INFLUENCES!" Zapatero declared, glaring at the boys as though daring them to contradict him. If he was, he was sadly disappointed as they just shrugged nonchalantly.

"Whether you send them to us for training or not is not really our problem," Harry said, hiding his knowing grin easily. After all, given the little spar he and Dudley had less than an hour ago, it was highly unlikely many children and teenagers wouldn't be begging their parents to let them go train. So, that being the case, there was no point in rubbing it in the Wizards' noses.

"IF YOU COULD INDULGE AN OLD MAN'S CURIOSITY," Lothar Kippenberger, the silent German Minister, said softly. "WHY HAVE YOU BOYS DECIDED TO SHARE THESE SECRETS WITH US AS A WHOLE? WHY NOT KEEP THEM TO YOURSELVES? YOU COULD ACCOMPLISH GREAT AND TERRIBLE THINGS WITH THAT POWER AND NONE OF US COULD EASILY STOP YOU." Looks of unease rapidly shot through the crowd as Kippenberger gave voice to the question that all of them had been thinking but purposely avoiding until now. "TRADITIONAL WISDOM SAYS THAT IF YOU WERE LOOKING TO BUILD UP A POWERBASE AMONG THE PEOPLE, YOU SHOULD START IN ONE COUNTRY FIRST TO ESTABLISH YOURSELVES BEFORE REACHING OUT TO NEIGHBORING AREAS AND WIZARDS. AND YET HERE YOU ARE, MAKING A BIG SHOW OF WHAT YOU CAN DO IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRETY OF THE WIZARDING WORLD. WHAT YOU'RE DOING NOW GOES AGAINST ALL SENSE AND SOUND POLITICAL REASONING."

"You must be one badass bureaucrat _if_ that's how you always look at things," Dudley said bluntly, one of his eyebrows cocked inquisitively.

Despite himself, Kippenberger couldn't stop the small smile that graced his weathered and ragged face for a brief second at what he took as a compliment. With how incredibly blunt and even purposely instigative the boy was, that was all that this statement could've been since it lacked the boy's usual cocky flare. "MY QUESTION REMAINS."

"Believe it or not," Dudley continued, grinning up at the Minister that he decided he rather liked, at least more than the others presently. "Having only _one_ person who's strong enough, skilled enough, and experienced enough to fight and spar with on a regular basis tends to get old really, really fast!"

"He means that we've fought and trained together so often that we've stopped growing," Harry clarified quickly. "We can easily predict and counter each other's moves nowadays and often end up in a draw. If we can't push ourselves to new heights, we've stopped growing. We've reached a plateau that we can't rise above. And we thought that the introduction of new fighters, new opponents with new tactics and abilities, will give us the boost needed to start growing again."

"AND WHY IS IT SO IMPORTANT FOR YOU TO GROW STRONGER?" Kippenberger asked, cocking his head curiously. "YOU'RE ALREADY COME SO FAR AS IS. WHAT COULD YOU GAIN BY GROWING EVEN STRONGER THAN YOU ARE NOW?"

"It's a matter of pride," Harry said simply.

"If I was so easily satisfied with my strength, I never would've gotten as strong as I am now!" Dudley stated, his voice serious and his expression grim. "If I was happy to only push myself so far and to stop when I couldn't seem to go any farther, I wouldn't have learned to fly! I wouldn't have learned how to use my power! I would've just been another John Doe schmuck of a martial artist living a normal boring life with low expectations and prospects! No, no, no! I want to get even stronger! And then stronger than that! And even stronger than _that_!"

"And I feel the same way," Harry agreed easily.

"AND THAT IS WHY YOU DECIDED TO…SPREAD THE WORD IN THIS MANNER?" Kippenberger said. "TO MAKE SURE THAT YOU CAN GET PEOPLE INTERESTED, THAT THEY'D COME RUNNING FOR THE CHANCE TO LEARN, AND THEN YOU'D HAVE AN ENTIRE HORDE OF PEOPLE TO FIGHT AGAINST ONCE THEY'VE LEARNED AND MASTERED YOUR SECRET MAGIC?"

"Correct," both boys said, nodding simply. Kippenberger nodded in return before sitting back into his chair to observe the rest of the meeting in silence once again.

"Well, I believe that subject's well done and closed now," Harry said, settling back into his chair. "I believe the next topic is one we need to settle quickly. That being, what we're doing here is a _business_. Thus, we need to establish the terms of payment and how much this is going to cost you. The cost of this venture is going to be both substantial in the short-term but trivial in the long-term. First, there's the basic cost of housing and equipment needed."

"You guys don't have to worry about that!" Dudley chirped up, grinning knowingly. "We've already bought some land and constructed a facility of our own design that'll suffice for the housing, training, and recreational areas of the students. However, since we're going to be using this facility to house your people, we figured that you guys could thank us by paying off the building and installation costs for starters."

"Before any of you ask, we went to a Muggle construction company to get that done," Harry interrupted. "If you have a problem with the costs of that, take it up with _them_ , not us. Next, we have food and those costs. We'll need enough food to feed upwards of at least two hundred students from each country for three months. Of course, we don't know just how many will sign up, so _this_ price is negotiable. Then there's the clothing and training equipment, basic utility costs, enrollment fees, transportation costs, and maybe a small cash prize at the end for exceptional students? And then there's the wards, Charms, and enchantments that we had added in for special effects and defenses." Looking up at the gathered gawking and/or glaring masses, Harry grinned somewhat sheepishly, "By our own estimations, the total final cost will be somewhere around 500 thousand Galleons, with about 7 to 10 thousand being negotiable."

For a moment, no one could do anything other than sputter and gawk at the _obscenely_ high price. Considering that even the richest of Wizards generally only had about 200 to 300 thousand Galleons, the disbelief of the crowd was rather understandable. In truth, most of the 500 thousand actually came from the Goblins who'd been responsible for the defenses and 'special effects' that had been added, but neither boy felt inclined to point that out.

"Hey, look, Salamander!" Dudley chirped, grinning widely at the crowd. "I think we broke them _again!_ That's _twice_ in _one day!_ Are we good or what?!"

"DO YOU HAVE AN OFF-SWITCH?" one of the British witches, Amelia Bones, asked in a heavy, resigned voice.

"Yeah, it's right next to the _prostate_ or is that the _on_ -switch?" Dudley replied, grinning conceitedly as many of the witches suddenly flushed at the joke.

"Enough!" Harry barked, backhanding Dudley in the face and sending him flying to the far side of the Quidditch Pitch with what seemed like casual effort. Turning back to the assembly, he gave them a sheepish smile, "Sorry about him. He gets a little…crude like that when he's bored…"

Seeing the looks among the crowd, Harry decided to throw them a bone. "This is a lot to take in, I understand. Why don't we adjourn for the day, go home, rest and relax, then come back tomorrow or whenever with your answers? If you want us, we'll be in camping out here in 'Tent City' somewhere." He gestured off to the side as he mentioned the collected tents of visitors.

"YES, I AGREE," Anton VI Romanov, Minister of Magic from Russia, said with a nod. Turning to the rest of the assembly, he said, "DO WE HAVE ANYONE TO SECOND THAT MOTION?"

"SI!" "OUI!" Ministers Medici of Italy and Villiers of France agreed, speaking together.

"VERY WELL," Malfoy stated as he resumed his role as Supreme Mugwump once again. "THIS HEARING SHALL ADJOURN AND BE RESUMED AT PRECISELY 3PM TOMORROW." He waved his wand as a jet of green sparks erupted from it, signaling the official end of the meeting.

* * *

 **Malfoy Manor**

He was standing before the high window of the personal library of the Malfoy patriarch, an old and rather musty tome held in his hand, reading what was written upon those pages. It was remarkable that even with how much he already knew about magic, there was still so much that he didn't know. He had been correct, all those years ago, when he decided to return back to his home country to begin his war on the filthy Muggles that infected the world.

Why should he waste time and energy exploring the world when it was so abundantly clear that there were secrets of magic still left undiscovered right here in Britain? Had he not discovered the secret of immortality upon these very shores? Had he not discovered the depths of his magic when he was still just a child here? Had he not gained access to every secret tome of research that countless generations of witches and wizards long before his time had complied over the years after he became the righteous leader of the Purebloods? Yes, in times like this, Lord Voldemort felt that he had really done himself a favor by putting his higher goal of perfection of the world above his goals of gaining total mastery of all magic. There were so many incredible little secrets, rituals, and more that he's long since found following his ascendancy to his current rank of Dark Lord. His minions and followers being all-too-eager to share with him even the highest magical secrets that their forefathers had uncovered. …Well, _most_ of them had been. And those that didn't easily and quickly changed their minds after a little persuasion or exposure to the torture curse, whichever he had been in the mood for at the time.

However, the current mystery of magic he was searching for was one of his own doing and creations. He had known when he was younger and more foolish that he was blazing trails and breaking through many limitations of magic that his predecessors had never dreamed to or dared fathom. Granted, not all of those breakthroughs had succeeded as he'd desired, being a rather hit-or-miss scenario of the more obscure ones he tried. But that was neither here nor there. What he was presently researching was all known and secretly-known experiments into magics that affected the soul. His soul had undergone some pretty traumatic experiences thanks to his creation of so many Horcrux anchors. And considering what had happened two years ago to him, which had granted him his new physical body, he had grown concerned for his own well-being.

Seething slightly at the thought, Voldemort closed the tome and set it down on the nearby table, crossing his arms as he turned his attention to the manor grounds outside. Things had been going both very, very well for him these past two years, but also very badly. With his successful theft of the Philosopher's Stone, he had gained the means of creating the homunculus body he now inhabited. But the creation of this body had not been an overnight affair. He had needed to delve into some very obscure alchemy research and in-depth experimentation which had taken the better part of a year to complete and allow him to start creating numerous test bodies. Creating these bodies was chore enough, especially since alchemy wasn't a branch of magic he'd put much effort into learning before. Thanks to his lack of knowledge and Flamel's near-religious secrecy, Voldemort was only able to make the body he now had and had next to no idea how to create the Elixir of Life for true immortality. Although, the effort of infusing his soul into this homunculus body had come at a great cost to him and the ramifications of that cost were what he had been researching in his spare time ever since.

Sadly, his spare time was quite fleeting these days. That tended to happen when you were the shadow leader of a social revolution that was quickly and insidiously taking control of the government and all other institutions of Wizarding Britain. And that wasn't even factoring into him now having to take the role of being a _father_ for the first time in his life. Granted, it was only a role he'd donned in secret, with his official story of the boy's presence among his followers being that he had taken him as an 'apprentice'. Nothing could be further from the truth, but his Death Eaters didn't know that. The honest truth of that problem was that he was unwilling to let the newly-christened 'Delamort' out of his sight, learning who knows what secrets, going to new places, and seeing things he had no business finding. As much as he hated to admit it, the boy was everything he had been at that same age and then some. Delamort fought all of his decisions due to his problems with authority figures, he had an insatiable curiosity, a relentless drive to learn and grow stronger, and an unwavering loyalty to the only person he felt he could trust: himself. But for all that, Delamort still had that small spark of goodness and light inside him that Voldemort had done his damnedest to rid himself of.

A knock on the door jarred Voldemort from his thoughts. Without a twitch or word, he flexed his magic and willed the library doors to burst open, slamming loudly against the walls. As he'd expected, it was Lucius who'd disturbed his quiet contemplations. "What is it, Malfoy?"

"Milord," Lucius greeted as he stepped into the library and quickly dropped to one knee, head bowed submissively. "I bring urgent news of what has been happening at Hogwarts these past few days."

"I know about the interruption of the Task," Voldemort stated, waving one hand towards the _Daily Prophet_ that rested on the table to the side. "There are two boys who've arrived and caused a ruckus due to them using strange wandless magic that has never been seen before."

Glancing at the newspaper as he slowly rose to his feet, Malfoy nodded to his lord's statement. "That is true, milord. But that is an earlier, _outdated_ copy. New information has come to light that _demands_ your attention."

Frowning slightly, Voldemort narrowed his eyes slightly as he caught the strange fluctuations in the Malfoy patriarch's voice. For some reason, a strange sense of foreboding began settling into the pit of his stomach. "Tell me."

"One of the boys has been positively confirmed to be Harry Potter, the Boy-Who—" Lucius wasn't able to finish as Voldemort hissed in fury and his magic lashed out powerfully in his rage, destroying bookshelves, shattering the windows, and practically incinerating the table. Lucius quickly took a few hurried steps away and literally fell to his hands and knees as he adopted a totally submissive posture to his superior. After several long, agonizing moments, Voldemort finally reined in his temper and regained his usual control.

" _Tell me_ _ **everything**_ ," he hissed.

* * *

( **Author's Note** ) Not too much to say in this AN. Just the usual thanks to my betas and please, please, _PLEASE **review**!_

List of Ministers of Magic Currently Present:  
Spain – Alejandro Zapatero  
Britain – Cornelius Fudge  
Russia – Anton VI Romanov  
Norway – Pyotr Balchen  
Italy – Fabiano de' Medici  
France – Verdell Villiers de L'Isle-Adam  
Germany – Lothar Kippenberger


	6. The Source of Magic

**The Magic Revolution**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
 _#06: The Source of Magic_

 **June 28, 2015  
Hogwarts**

Yawning loudly as she stretched her arms over her head, Nymphadora Tonks blearily wiped her eyes of sleep sand as she struggled to fully awaken. Why did she have to get up so blasted early in the morning again? Who cares if her boss and her boss's boss wanted her to patrol and guard the Twin Calamities! Surely, such a duty could've waited until slightly later on in the day, right? Noontime would've been perfect for her, not too early and not too late. But _nooooo!_ She had to get up at the crack of dawn. Literally. The sun was just peeking out over the horizon right now! Just because the higher-ups had become so incredibly terrified and paranoid of all things Salamander and Saiyan.

Yawning again as she blearily rubbed her eyes again, Tonks shuffled her way through the narrow passageways of Tent City. Finding the boys' tent was very easy since they made no attempt at hiding themselves. It was just a simple Muggle-styled two-person blue and gray tent. Something small and easy to set up in just a few minutes. Yet the sight of it still caught a number of surprised stares from the crowd that had formed around it, considering the boys hadn't used even an ounce of magic in setting it up or even putting protective charms around it. For all intents and purposes, it was just a common Muggle tent. Something that was beyond bizarre to everyone present, who'd assumed such incredible boys would never stoop to something so low and boring.

As she approached the tent, she paused as she noticed the flap was carelessly thrown open, the sleeping bags empty, and the boys were not present inside it. ' _Where are they? It's too early to play hide-n-seek with them!_ '

 _KRA-BOOOOM!_ As if in answer to her silent question, a loud explosion suddenly rent the air, startling many of the sleeping wizards and witches awake in an instant. Ignoring the crowd of surprised and confused civilians who came stumbling out of their own tents, Tonks turned and looked around quickly. _**BA-BAAANG!**_ Following the second noise, the currently brown-haired Auror hurried off towards where she now guessed the sounds were coming from. It was difficult working her way through the growing crowd of waking wizards, but she managed it steadily, the noise and explosions getting louder as she drew nearer.

Finally bursting out of a narrow opening between two tents, she found herself standing on a cliff overlooking the Black Lake. Glancing around, she saw what she expected. The two boys were awake and standing upon a nearby shore a short walking distance away. Curiously, she noticed that they weren't fighting each other. Instead, the Saiyan boy was attacking a distant cliff, shattering it into large boulders with just simple punches. Then he'd pick up those boulders and hurl them at the Salamander, who literally leap headfirst towards them to headbutt them to smithereens. ' _Is this…_ _ **training**_ _for them?_ ' she couldn't help gawking somewhat in disbelief.

Quickly shaking herself of her thoughts, Tonks reached into her pocket and pulled out a small handheld mirror to check her appearance. Her face was much the same, just somewhat younger in appearance. Her hair was still short and spiky, but as a deep brown color. Her eyes were a vivid blue and her lips somewhat fuller than they normally were. A face that practically begged a man to lean in and start kissing her. Her body was somewhat slimmer than her normal appearance, with smaller breasts and limbs that hadn't quite built up the muscle mass that she'd gained from her Auror training. Overall, her new and younger appearance gave off the sense of being a gorgeous young woman who couldn't have been more than 16. Suffice to say, this _wasn't_ her idea but her job was on the line here!

Content that her disguise was suitably in place, she stowed her mirror and hurried over towards the beach where the boys were training. At first, she just tried to stick to the shadows and dart between the tents. But then she found that it was easier to just follow the flow of observers who'd also come out to gawk at the boys. By the time she reached the shore, there was already a rather large crowd lining the edges of the sand. Several of the braver souls were approaching the boys as they suddenly changed exercises. The Saiyan landing a pointed rock and started doing one-armed hand-standing push-ups and the Salamander locked his heels on the edge of an especially large boulder and started doing sit-ups. Despite herself, Tonks couldn't help quirking her eyebrow at those rather…basic exercises. ' _You'd think they wouldn't bother doing such simple stretches and whatnot. Why not just focus on building up their magical power instead?_ '

Reminding herself of her mission, Tonks pushed forward through the crowd to join the others who were also hesitantly approaching the boys. Looking among them, she noted that most of them were teenagers of the various schools or young adults. But her eyes gravitated towards the foremost pair of redheaded boys who'd reached the flexing Salamander. Tonks frowned upon seeing them, and started to rush forward with a slight deal more speed than she had earlier.

"…you about which students you're going to teach," one of the redheads was saying as Tonks got close enough to listen in.

"You don't want to teach your magic to the _wrong sort of wizard_ , Potter," the second redhead agreed.

"And who—?" Harry asked between his sit-ups. "—is the—wrong sort—I shouldn't—take as my—students?" Despite the reasonable question, the boy's tone told her that he was far from pleased with what they were saying.

"In case you don't know," Fred Weasley said, whether not noticing or ignoring Harry's biting tone. "There are certain families and Houses within Hogwarts who don't get along with each other."

"Families that specialize in Dark Magic," George continued easily. "And, specifically, the House of Slytherin has a long history of producing Dark Wizards, like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the _Malfoys_ , the Flints, and the Parkinsons."

Pausing in his sit-ups to gaze down at the pair, Harry's eyes were narrowed contemplatively. "You have a problem with the Malfoy family, don't you?"

" _Of course we do!_ " both twins snapped angrily, visibly bristling. "They're Dark Wizards, _through and through!_ "

"Lucius was a _willing_ follower of the Dark Lord, _everybody_ knows it!" Fred barked, glaring up at Harry.

"And his precious son, _Draco_ , got our dear little brother _killed_ three years ago!" George growled, practically spitting out Draco's name.

"How did that happen?" Harry asked curiously.

"He challenged Ron to a duel but didn't show up!" "Instead, he sent Filch after him to get him in trouble!" "Ron tried to hide but got killed when a three-headed dog attacked him!" "And _Draco_ didn't even have the courage to personally come forward to take responsibility!" "He's a _coward_ and _snake_ who'll do _anything_ to get what he wants!" "And that's the same for _all Slytherins_!" "So, it would be in your _best interests_ to refuse _any_ snake who tries to learn from you!"

For several long moments, Harry just continued hanging from the rock, staring at the boys with a cocked head and brow. Then, slowly, as though he was merely voicing his thoughts than speaking to them, he said, "I had thought that duels were now illegal in Wizarding Europe, too many deaths and injuries over stupid little squabbles. And, if this happened three years ago, that must mean that he couldn't have been older than 11 or 12, just beginning his education here, right? So, it sounds to me like your brother was something of an idiot then to agree with the duel in the first place."

Both Weasleys froze momentarily and Tonks found herself torn between a sympathetic wince and blinking in surprise. _'Harry_ _ **probably**_ _doesn't know very much about Wizarding World, but he sure_ _ **does**_ _make some pretty fast deductions. And while he could have shown a bit more tact in his delivery, or hell even sympathy, he_ _ **was**_ _right. Ron had been an idiot, from what little I've heard of him_.'

"Maybe if you had been here to stop him, _like you should've been_ , he'd still be here alive!" one of the twins growled lowly, his hand not-so-inconspicuously sliding towards his side.

"Perhaps," Harry acknowledged as he started doing his sit-ups again. "But perhaps—there's a— _better_ question—to ask—Why didn't _you_ —try to stop—him? You're—his brothers—aren't you?"

Growling, both twins suddenly whipped out their wands and reflexively cast powerful Blasting Hexes at Harry. Tonks barely had time to move to stop them before they'd attacked. Drawing her own wand, she moved to intercept the fight but was proven unneeded. Harry, having anticipated such reactions, had easily dropped to the ground as soon as the wands were drawn. Then, after the spells blasted the boulder above him, he launched himself forward faster than they could see him move. He moved up between them and buried his fists in their abdomens, knocking the air from their lungs, causing them to drop their wands, and send them flying five meters backwards. They landed in crumpled heaps at Tonks' feet, cradling their stomachs as they fought to get their breaths back.

Stopping only to pick up their wands, Harry moved forward until he stood at their feet, looking down upon their huddled forms with a strange, almost threatening gaze in his eye. It was an expression made all the more intimidating from the large red scar on his cheek. "While your warning on how my _potential_ students might behave towards one another is appreciated, _don't_ think for a _second_ that I subscribe to the bias that is so prominent in this world. If someone thinks they have what it takes to complete my training, then they are _welcome to join_. But I _do not_ and _will not_ suffer this type of bias _from_ anyone, _against_ anyone, or _by_ anyone."

"And what'll you do when one of those snakes takes what you teach them and kills somebody? What then, _Salamander_?" The twin on Tonks' left glared, spitting out Harry's title with a venom comparable to her uncle's opinion of muggles.

"Then me and Dud will do what we've always done with threats like that. We'll—Put—Them—Down. Don't mistake me for naïve. If my teachings are abused, then I'll deal with it. But until that happens, all comers are welcome, even you two idiots." Dropping their wands nearby, he finished with a softer but no less threatening tone, "Now, I suggest you _leave_ before you get me _mad_."

The Weasley twins wasted no time in grabbing their wands and scampering off, glaring at him the whole time. But Harry utterly ignored them as he raised his gaze to Tonks. Despite herself, Tonks found herself suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious and bashful. It wasn't necessarily because of Harry's piercing stare as he studied her very appealing form. It was due to how…exposed the Potter boy was. Dressed in only a simple pair gray sweatpants and oriental shoes, the boy's highly developed and toned chest and arms were on prominent display to the witch. While Tonks was no stranger to the male body, his was definitely a _prime_ _specimen_ that could easily make any woman drool in desire despite his age. For all her maturity, Tonks felt a familiar heat rise up in her cheeks as a blush lit up her face.

"H-Hi," she stuttered, her sudden bashfulness momentarily overcoming her. "I—uh, th-that was impressive. I-I couldn't even see you move. How did you do that? Some type of magical boost to your speed or maybe an Apparation trick? _Can_ you even Apparate?"

"Heheheheh," Harry chuckled, one hand rising to scratch the back of his head absentmindedly as he looked off to the side. "Nope, that was just my own pure speed. Nothing magical about it."

"…Seriously?" Tonks asked in a slight deadpan voice.

"Seriously," Harry nodded, turning a slight grin up at her. "So, what's your name?"

"Nym—Nikki," Tonks said, stuttering again as she caught herself. "Nikki Tonks, 16, homeschooled witch."

"Heh," Harry grunted, his small grin now firmly in place. "Sounds like some type of military greeting there." He held up his hand and carelessly waved it to stave off Tonks immediate following denial of such a thing. "I'm Harry the Salamander. And you're here to learn a new type of magic, eh?"

"Y-Yes," Tonks nodded. "I had heard you guys were impressive, but now I'm sure of it. Um…where's the signup sheet?"

"Just stick around, Nikki," Harry said, gesturing off to the side. "I predict we're going to be getting a bit more company shortly and I want to save the speeches and arguments for the whole class."

Looking over to the side, Tonks saw that he was indeed correct. There was a noticeably growing crowd of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang students who were slowly, hesitantly, starting to make their way across the beach. A sudden flare of fire, heat, wind, and sand caught Tonks by surprise as Harry suddenly blasted off from the ground. Following his flight trail, she guessed that he was rapidly rushing back to his tent.

"So, who are _you_ , babe?" a new voice suddenly spoke up as an enormously-muscular arm draped itself over her shoulders, startling her at its abrupt appearance. Without hesitation, her wand shot into her hand as she ducked under the arm and bounced away from the man. The grinning face of the Saiyan was all that stopped her from launching the Stunner Curse that was on the tip of her tongue. " _Nice_ reflexes and good coordination! You'll be a _badass_ fighter once you get trained up!"

" _Don't_ _ **scare**_ _me like that!_ " Tonks yelled defensively, keeping her wand leveled threateningly on the blonde boy. "Didn't your mother ever teach you its _rude_ to startle people like that?!"

"Yes, she did," Dudley acknowledged. "But she _also_ taught me that _flying is impossible_ and _magic_ _isn't real_. So, I don't tend to follow my mother's advice that much these days."

"I should hope not," a new voice spoke up, drawing Tonks and Dudley's attentions. It was that of a young man, probably no older than 18. He had short, dark reddish-black hair with gray eyes. Though his body was of average build and height, he did have an exceptionally handsome face, which was presently pulled into a disarming grin. "It would be such a shame for a man of your talents to limit yourself as such!"

" _ **Finally!**_ " Dudley chirped, exultation clear in his voice. "Someone who _understands!_ " Suddenly appearing next to the young man, Dudley draped his arm over the boy's shoulder in a show of comradery. "So, what's your name, big guy?"

"Tomaso," Tomaso greeted pleasantly, showing no real surprise to Dudley's disappearing/reappearing act, although a look of clear discomfort crossed his face from the physical contact. But that look quickly disappeared as the young man cast a charming grin towards Tonks, he said, "Tomaso Don'Elmo, 18, homeschooled wizard."

"Heh, sounds like something from a military background file or such," Dudley said, sending Tonks a quick glance and grin, having caught to subtle undertone.

"That's not _funny!_ " Tonks barked back, pouting petulantly.

"It's kinda funny," Tomaso retorted, his grin growing slightly.

"So, what type of _magic_ did you come to learn, Tom?" Dudley asked, sneering slightly at the 'magic' term as he returned his attention to his new friend. "Did you come to learn the elements? Or maybe some type of esoteric power like invisibility or impenetrable barriers? Or, better yet, did you come to become a badass warrior of unmatched power and skill?"

"Do you _really_ need to ask?" Tom shot back, a strange gleam in his eye.

"…Ha! I guess not," Dudley laughed as he moved aside, looking up into the sky.

Following his line of sight, Tonks and Tom beheld Harry (now wearing a simple black t-shirt, much to Tonks' relief) coming back for a landing. Hefted somewhat haphazardly over his shoulder was a large trunk that was clearly of Wizarding make. Flaring out the flames from his soles as he neared the ground, his speed drastically decreased until he was just floating in a hover. Then he abruptly cut the flames off and dropped the remaining twenty meters to the ground near the small group. He landed as lightly as a wizard who's dismounted his broom.

"Well, if nothing else, your landings are getting better," Dudley observed as he moved over to his cousin. "You're not crashing anymore or setting the ground on fire. I think you _might_ actually be getting the hang of this now. But you've still got a _long_ way to go."

"Don't sound so surprised, _Piccolo_ ," Harry snapped, glaring over at his cocky cousin as he set the trunk on the ground. "I'm getting better _every single day!_ "

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Dudley roared furiously, surprising Tonks, Tom, and the crowd of students. He shot over to his cousin and planted his fist into his gut. Despite knowing it was coming, Harry was unable to fully block it. All he could do was take the blow as he jumped backwards to lessen the amount of impact. Regardless, enough of the punch landed to send him flying almost five meters before he landed in the cold waters of the loch. "YOU KNOW I _HATE_ BEING CALLED THAT!"

"Then don't mock my landings anymore, Saiyan!" Harry snapped, rushing forward to smack his cousin in the head.

"Are you two done?" Tonks asked, interrupting the budding fight as she crossed her arms and sending them a displeased glare. "If you want to be treated like _adults_ , quit acting like _little children!_ "

"I respectfully agree with Ms. Tonks," Tom said, nodding towards the girl.

"But that's no fun!" both boys said, with identical pouts on their faces. In response, Tonks, Tom, and more than a few of the observing students just raised their eyebrows in expectation and exasperation.

"What's in the trunk, Potter?" a familiar blonde Slytherin called out as he pushed his way through the crowd.

"Ah! Thanks for reminding me!" Dudley suddenly chirped, quite blatantly forgetting his little squabble with his cousin. Turning to face the crowd, he grinned at them. "We decided that it would be foolish of us to just take all of you on as our disciples but not give you a brief overview of just what it is you'll be learning! Thus, we're going to give you all a demonstration of what you can expect over the summer." Rushing up to the trunk, he took out a keychain, selected a very specific one, and unlocked the trunk, gesturing towards the students to gather around. Harry approached at a much more sedate pace.

"But that's not all we're going to be doing today," Harry said, stopping about ten paces from the trunk. "You see, much of what we have to teach most assuredly isn't for everyone here. We want only the _strongest_ , the _bravest_ , the most _committed_ among you to train under us. Because those are the ones who'll have the best chance of learning. Thus, we've set up a series of tests for all of you prospective disciples to undergo. If you pass them, you'll be welcomed with open arms. If not…"

Looking around the crowd, Tonks saw that most of the teenagers and children had looks of confusion and more than few pouts. And, frankly, she couldn't blame them. They had come believing that they had been invited with no strings attached, only to find that there were indeed rules and tests they'd have to abide to just get fully accepted into this new school.

"Here's an easier way to think of it," Dudley called out suddenly. "You all have to ask yourselves one question: are you a _dragon_ or a _sheep_? The king of the skies or just another insignificant member of the herd?" Now some of those looks of confusion were replaced with glares and deepening confusion. Seeing that they hadn't understood what he'd meant, Dudley clarified, "You see, a _sheep_ is someone who expects the things he wants to be _given_ to him. A _dragon_ goes out and _hunts_ for the things he wants! So, which are you?! A dragon or a sheep?!"

After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Harry spoke up, "Dragons would have the easiest time learning our teachings. But those of you who know you are sheep, you are still welcome to join, provided you put in the same amount of effort as the dragons do." That seemed to settle a lot of the looks of anger and confusion as a series of nodding faces swept through the crowd.

"Now, here's your first test of being accepted," Dudley said as he threw open the trunk. Being the next closest to it, Tonks could see down inside it somewhat. And all she see was a lot of blue and light and…was that water down there? Just how deep did this trunk go? "Your first test is one of courage. You see, this trunk has no entrance or exit ladder. You have to have the _courage_ to jump off the edge of a cliff _into the unknown_ , knowing that there's _no way back!_ "

"Doesn't sound too hard!" a snide French voice called out from the group, earning a couple of halfhearted laughs from his fellows.

"Hey, Salamander! Wanna do the honors?" Dudley asked, looked pointedly over at his cousin.

"I thought you'd never ask!" Harry chirped, grinning like a fool. Raising his arms forward, he took a stance like an Olympic gymnast preparing for a long routine. "He's planning a triple handspring moving into a quadruple backflip before merging with a double front flip and ending on with a swan dive…" Seeing the looks of confusion on the faces of the students, he clarified with " _Insanely_ high degree of difficulty!"

Launching himself forward, he sprung into a trio of highspeed handstands, each one pulling him closer to the trunk. On the last one, he landed right next to it. But then he launched himself high into the air, performing a perfect series of four backflips. As he reached the apex of his jump, he suddenly shifted his backwards motion into a forward one by spinning at the waist. This spinning smoothly transitioned into a pair of flips before he suddenly straightened out and took a diving posture with his outstretched arms sweeping forward. "Nailed it." Just as he reached the trunk, he cheered out, "YAAAAHHHHOOOOOOooooooooooooooooo!"

Despite herself, Tonks couldn't help gawking as she leaned forward to watch the boy drop. It was entirely thanks to his loud whooping that steadily grew quieter the longer he fell that she was able to realize the sheer depths of the trunk before her. Looking up at Dudley, she asked the question that all of the students were thinking, "Is he _still_ falling?"

"IIIIIIIII aammmm stiiiillllll faaaalllllliinnnnggg!" Harry's quiet voice was easily heard by all, causing more than a few to sweatdrop and even chuckle.

"Just how deep is this charmed to be?" a soft French voice asked as a beautiful blonde Veela came forward.

"Alllllmmmmoooooossssttttt aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa kkkiilllllloooommeeettttteerrrr—!" _**KER-SPLASH!**_ Harry answered back, earning even more sweatdrops as Dudley broke out laughing.

"So," Dudley asked, turning an amused gaze and wide grin upon the gawking and somewhat intimidated crowd. "Who's next?"

* * *

The inside of the boys' trunk was unbelievable in its sheer size. It contained an entire _island!_ An admittedly small one, less than a kilometer in overall size, but it was covered in a vast treasure trove of different landscape types. Landscapes that ranged from tropical forests, to grasslands, to jagged rocky cliffs, to calm forested valleys, and even a small section of a frozen and snowy wasteland. And at the center of the island was a large mountaintop that had a good-sized temple of obvious Far Eastern design built atop it. It was abundantly clear to all present that this was the boys' mobile training location whenever they were away from home.

It was in the courtyard of this temple that Tonks and the brave few prospective students found themselves. Looking out over the crowd, Tonks couldn't help shaking her head in slight surprise at the number of teenagers who'd managed to swallow their fears and take the jump. Of the original crowd, there must've been upwards of 400 students and young adults from each school and Wizarding country present, putting the total close to 2,000 prospective students. But now, that number had been drastically reduced to somewhere around 400 total. Most of them coming from Durmstrang ironically, with Hogwarts being a close second, and Beauxbatons having just barely 50.

Tonks considered herself in pretty good physical shape. She was a young woman in her prime and an active Auror to boot. And yet, she, like all of the others, was finding herself having a difficult time. Everything here was just so exhausting for some reason. The swim to shore, the hike through the various landscapes, climbing the mountain staircase to reach the summit and the temple, the thin air, and a strange weight that seemed to have settled over her shoulders. All of it was just so exhausting! And, as if to mock them, neither Harry nor Dudley seemed at all affected by any of this as they led the way. If it wasn't obvious before, it certainly was now that they, all of them, really had no clue just what it was they had signed up for.

Finally, after what must've been an hour's trek, the children spilled into the courtyard of the temple. Most of them just flat out collapsed wherever they could, particularly if the spot was presently empty of another person. For her part, Tonks just leaned heavily down on her knees, panting heavily. "Why am I so…so tired?" she wondered. "I'm used to walking…and standing for…long periods of time. But…never this tired before…"

"There's something…in the air," a young, soft voice uttered nearby. Looking over, Tonks spotted a young Hogwarts witch with long, curly brown hair, and two visible buckteeth. The Gryffindor witch was seated heavily on the ground with her legs splayed out underneath her, but it was obvious by her expression that she was too proud to just roll over and lay down like most of the rest. Seeing that she'd gotten Tonks' attention, the witch continued, "The air's really thin…This means that there's less…oxygen in our bodies and makes…it harder for us to move and think…"

"You're partly right," Dudley said from where he was seated in a reclining posture at the base of a large wooden pillar that was standing in the center of the courtyard. Grinning at the witch, he continued in a somewhat louder voice that was easily heard by the rest of the teenagers, "There is indeed less air than normal in this area, but that's only because we're on the mountaintop. Everything and everywhere in this island is designed to perfectly simulate each of the different landscapes, down to the smallest details. Alas, less air to breathe because we're on a mountaintop. _But_ there's another reason too and that's—"

" _Don't spoil the surprise, Saiyan!_ " Harry barked as he emerged from the temple doors he'd vanished into a few minutes earlier, carrying a large wooden box in both arms. Glaring over at Dudley, he said, "If they know about _that_ little detail, they'll start consciously letting it affect them. _You know that!_ Quit trying to sabotage them."

"I'm not trying to _sabotage_ them!" Dudley retorted, glaring right back at Harry. "I just figured that if they knew exactly what they're dealing with, they'd push that much harder to adjust _against_ it."

"And you also know that such things take _time_ ," Harry countered easily as he reached Dudley and set the box down at the base of the pillar. "Time that they and we _don't_ have available just yet."

Snorting in irritation at not being able to counter that argument, Dudley pouted as he turned back to the slowly recovering students. "Anyway, back on topic. Now that you're all here, we're going to explain one of the key differences between our abilities and those of the rest of the Wizarding World!" After saying this, he waited for a few moments, allowing the numerous students to prop themselves back up so they could pay better attention to what was going to be discussed. Seeing that he'd fully gotten their attentions, he continued, "As many of you have probably noticed by now, Salamander and I have some pretty awesome strength and speed that no normal person could hope to achieve. Well, there's a reason for that! It's a primary part of our basic training and it's one of the two foundational aspects that separates us from you. That being: we constantly work our bodies, pushing our physical capabilities to our limits and then beyond them!"

"You mean you…work out your bodies like…a Muggle bodybuilder?" the curly-haired girl asked, raising her hand partially as though she were in a classroom.

"Correct," Dudley said, grinning over at the girl and causing her to blush somewhat. "But there's so much more than just that to it."

"Wait!" a loud, angry voice called from the crowd. With just a glance, Tonks immediately identified the person as being a Slytherin, the green on black certainly gave that away quickly. "You mean you intend to make us roll around in the dirt like a bunch of filthy Muggles?!"

"Only if you keep up that attitude," Dudley said, his and Harry's expressions changing from jovial to threatening in an instant as they glared at the student.

" _I came to learn_ _ **magic**_ _!_ " the Slytherin snapped, pushing himself to his feet angrily, along with a considerable number of like-minded fellows. " _Not to worked like a House-elf!"_ "Just you wait until the _Minister_ hears about this!" " _This is an_ _ **outrage**_ _!_ "

"Then _leave_ ," Harry snapped abruptly, gesturing towards the staircase. "We already said that this type of training _isn't_ for everyone. We're _not_ forcing you to remain here. If you truly don't want to learn, go back to the shore and wait by the boulder that's shaped like a _pussy_. We'll be down to let you out in about an hour or two."

Now the Slytherin speaker and his cohorts were glaring even more heatedly over at the boys, not sure whether they were trying to make fools of them or if that was a genuine offer. In the end, more than fifty angry Wizards and Witches from Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and a few from Beauxbatons turned and started a stumbling descent down the stairs that their poorly-rested legs were ill-prepared to handle.

There was an uncomfortable silence that hung heavy over the remaining group as they looked amongst each other, waiting for the boys to restart their discussion. Admittedly, more than a few of the remaining hopefuls had somewhat agreed with the Slytherins. They had indeed been hoping to learn magic, not to be put through what was undoubtedly going to be an exhausting physical training regime. But, at the same time, while they might've agreed with the deserters, they also realized that the boys hadn't been able to fully begin explaining the differences of why such a training regime was such a crucial part of their magic. Yes, they did have strength and speed that was unmatched, but surely that was just a convenient extension of the magic they had discovered and learned…right?

"Right now, you're all wondering," Harry suddenly spoke up, surprising several of them. "Just how does physical training affect our magic and make it different from yours?" He grinned as he saw a lot of surprised faces and blushes light up among the crowd. "The answer is quite simple: half of magic is made up a person's body's physical energy."

"Physical energy?" Tom asked, leaning forward interestedly, along with the curly-haired girl. "You mean our body's life force energy?"

"Something like that," Dudley waving his hand dismissively. "You see, there are two distinct branches of energy that we've discovered over our training. We call them 'ki' and 'chi'. What Harry uses is 'chi' energy, and I use 'ki' energy."

"Ki is a person's physical stamina and endurance," Harry spoke up, his voice now calmly carrying over the crowd. " _Everyone_ has this type of energy, whether magical or nonmagical, Wizard, Muggle, or a Magical Creature. It doesn't matter; if you're alive, you have ki energy. But being able to _utilize_ this energy is something that nearly no one else has ever been able to properly achieve. It requires a strong mental state, a clarity of mind, and overwhelming passion to touch, channel, and use."

"But what can this 'ki' energy actually _do_?" the girl asked, utterly engrossed with what was being said.

"Once you are able to properly touch and control it, a variety of new abilities will be awakened inside you," Harry answered, nodding towards the girl. "Abilities like sensory, enhanced strength, boosted reflexes, and heightened endurance. These are the most _basic_ of abilities. And, believe it or not, _all of you_ have likely experienced these powers _multiple times_ over your lives already!"

"What?!" numerous voices called out in surprise.

"You know that _bad feeling_ you get when something _really bad_ is about to happen? That's your ki- _sense_ " Dudley asked, a small grin covering his face as dawning looks of realization crossed numerous faces. "Or how about those times when you're watching something bad happen and it feels like time _slows down_ and, if you so desired, you could've perhaps reached out _touched_ whatever it was that was happening right in front of you. That is ki-boosted _reflexes_. And we've _all_ heard the stories of mothers who are able to lift _impossibly_ heavy objects in order to save their trapped babies underneath. That's ki-enhanced _strength_."

Looks of genuine awe and surprise filled the faces of those seated around them as the true significance of this discovery slowly started to dawn on and settle into their minds. Unsurprisingly, the curly-haired witch was the first to comment, "And you learned how to control these abilities _consciously?!_ "

"Of course!" Dudley chirped, grinning widely and developing a look of intense personal pride at his own awesomeness. It was a look that many in the crowd now understood he _rightfully_ deserved to have. "And I'm the reigning _master_ of all things Ki-related! _Worship me_ , because I'm _just_ that awesome!"

"Careful, Dud," Harry said, reaching over and swatting his cousin upside the head. "Your head's starting to swell again. Better see that, before you float away again." The look of wounded pride on Dudley's face and Harry's casual comment easily broke the atmosphere that the Saiyan's revelations had created.

"So, what's the difference between ki and this chi energy you mentioned?" Cedric Diggory asked from his spot off to the side.

"I'm so glad you asked!" Harry said, grinning over at the Hogwarts Champion as Dudley turned and pouted somewhat. "You see, ki is what all creatures possess. But chi is _special_ because only _certain_ people and creatures have that unique trait that allows them _access_ to it."

"Ki is what Muggles would have," Dudley suddenly interrupted, clearly not desiring to hear a long-winded explanation from Harry. "But chi is the Wizards' equivalent!"

"…Wait," Draco Malfoy called out, sounding and looking _very_ surprised. "Are you saying… _YOU_ are a _**MUGGLE?!**_ "

"What was your first clue, blondie?" Dudley asked, grinning savagely as he looked over the suddenly gawking, surprised, and even somewhat fearful students. "I have not once _,_ _ever_ , said that I was a Wizard in any way! All those limp-dick bureaucrats and idiots outside just _assumed_ I was a Wizard! Because, _**obviously**_ , a _Muggle_ would _never_ be able to _do_ any of the stuff _**I**_ can do… _Riiiiiight_?" A resounding silence of incredible tension descended over the crowd as nearly all of the wizards and witches suddenly started reflexively reaching for wands that were no longer at their sides.

"Back to the original topic," Harry interrupted. "Dudley is essentially correct. Ki is a combination of both his physical and spiritual prowess. His mastery of it allows for him greater abilities than most could even dream of. However, chi is technically the same thing. You see, as people of magic, we will subconsciously add magic into the mixture of physical and spiritual energies. Thus, we generate something similar yet fundamentally different to ki. As a result, this grants us abilities that Dudley and any other Muggle would never be able to achieve or access."

"This is my _ki_ , in its _purest_ state," Dudley said, holding up a hand as a small ball of blinding yellow light came to life just above it.

"This is my _chi_ , in its _purest_ state," Harry repeated, holding up a hand as frolicking red flame-like energy suddenly burst to life within it.

"Now, I'm sure you're all wondering," Dudley said, as he and Harry extinguished their little demonstrations. "How does all of this relate to us having to work our bodies like 'filthy Muggles'?"

"The answer should be blatantly obvious to anyone who was paying attention," Harry said, looking over the crowd. Most of them looked uncertain, even confused. Then a hand was raised in the air, hesitantly. "Yes, Miss…?"

"Hermione Granger," the girl said as she quickly lowered her hand. "You said that ki, and chi, is powered by a person's physical energies and that, with training, we learn to add magic into that energy to produce chi, correct?"

"Gold star to the smart girl!" Dudley said, grinning as he and Harry nodded in acknowledgement. Hermione's face immediately lit up bright red as she felt stares from all over the crowd suddenly land on her shoulders. Though it was a sensation she was rather familiar with, this particular time was substantially stronger than those times in class. "She hit the nail right on the head. Ki and chi are powered by a person's _body's_ stamina and strength."

"And this is true, even now!" Harry said. "Why do you think you guys feel inexplicably tired after you cast a _really_ big spell of some kind? If magic was an energy source that was completely _separate_ from your body, then you _shouldn't_ feel like you just ran two kilometers or hiked up a mountain when you cast that spell, right? And, the older you get, the more power you get, right? _Wrong!_ All you just learn how to do is how to manage your _limited_ pool of magical power better, rather than _gain more power_."

"If you want to _increase_ your magical power and combat effectiveness, you need to train under harsh _physical_ conditions," Harry continued. "This is why, in _most_ countries we've been to, that the Aurors tend to be more magically _powerful_ than the common Wizard or Witch. Because they have been put through _intense_ magical training that forces them to endure all manner of hardships in order to prepare for the unexpected. Hardships that _usually_ include running, jumping, and navigating obstacle courses of some kind. Am I wrong?"

Despite the abundant looks of unhappiness, no one spoke up to argue his point. Indeed, Tonks couldn't help agreeing with the boys' points of view almost completely on every regard. Everything they said made sense, in some manner, as to how and why magic was effected by a person's physical prowess. And if what they said about those ki-abilities had _any_ truth…these powers could completely overhaul, if not _revolutionize_ , the Auror training program!

"Now, considering that most all common Witch and Wizards that we've come across have been simply atrocious in anything 'muggle-related', most of this summer's training is going to focus heavily on us getting all of you up to speed!" Dudley said, turning back to the crowd as a savage grin pulled across his face again.

"WHAT?!" more than a few voices complained and whined. "All summer?!" "But I wanna learn magic!" "Yeah! We don't need this extra training!"

Standing up from where he'd been seated, Harry reached towards his waist and pulled out a sheathed dagger that none of the students had noticed before. "You know something? You're all right," Harry agreed, nodding towards them as he turned and started walking off to the side. "After all, Dudley and I have no idea just how physically fit you all are. Only you guys know what you're truly capable of." Stopping, he glanced over his shoulder towards the smiling and nodding faces of the students, many of them pleased that they'd managed to convince at least one of their future teachers of that simple fact. But their smiles and relief quickly faded when he concluded with "How about a bet?"

Spinning around, he swung his arm out and hurled his dagger upwards. With a loud _thunk_ sound, the dagger embedded itself almost hilt-deep into the top of the tall pillar they were all seated in front of. Everyone looked upwards, easily spotting the gleaming emerald pommel of the dagger's hilt from where it now sparkled almost ten meters straight up. Almost as one, every student turned to look back down at Harry, only to find him once again standing at the base of the pillar next to Dudley, who was now holding open the large box Harry had carried out with him several minutes earlier.

"The bet is simple," Harry continued as he pointed upwards. "Whoever can retrieve my dagger will be exempt from any and all physical training exercises and workouts. The only rule is the circumstance in how you are allowed to reach my dagger. Any volunteers?"

"I vill," Viktor Krum stated as he climbed to his feet and moved forward. All of the students quickly scooting aside to make room for the Quidditch star. Viktor paid them no mind as he approached the boys and waited for further explanation.

Turning to Dudley, Harry reached into the box and withdrew two large golden weights with leather straps laced through their centers. Taking one of Viktor's hands, he wrapped the leather around his wrist as he turned the older boy around so the rest of the group could see. Holding up Viktor's arm, he said, "This represents your _skill_." He released Viktor's wrist, who was unprepared for the unexpectedly heavy weight he now carried, causing him to nearly fall over before he caught himself. As he was pulling himself upright, Harry moved around him and repeated what he'd done to the previous. He wrapped Viktor's other wrist with the leather before raising his arm, weight, and then his entire body as he said, "And this represents your _commitment_." This time, Viktor fully collapsed to the ground in an undignified heap, causing more than a few barely restrained giggles and chuckles to sweep through the crowd. Without facing the recovering and glaring form of Viktor, Harry simply said, "You need to use _both_ to reach my dagger. Begin when you're ready."

Growling subtly and muttering angrily about arrogant little kids, Viktor turned to glare up at the dagger above him. But, in that moment, Viktor realized just how impossibly high this pillar really was and just how heavy the dead weight on his arms were. This was going to be…difficult. But he gamely forced his sudden doubts aside as he launched himself forwards and started crawling his way upwards. He must've gotten only a few feet before the weight caught up to him and he found himself crashing back to the ground in another undignified heap. This surprising action elicited even more repressed giggles from the crowd. After all, it wasn't every day that they got to see the famed and flawless _Viktor Krum_ make a fool of himself.

Climbing back to his feet, he moved forward to try again. "No!" Dudley barked, moving forward and pulling Viktor away. " _One try!_ And you've _failed_. Give the discs to the _next_ person!" Growling like an angry dog, Viktor glared at the muscular blonde for a moment before turning and moving off to hand the weights off to the nearest person he could find.

And so it went. One after another, each student tried their luck against the post and each one failed. Admittedly, some got higher than others, whilst a few even tried to take a pass on the bet, knowing their own strengths weren't enough. In the end, no one got higher than a meter off the ground before they fell back down.

"Well, that was… _awful_ ," Dudley declared after the last student took her turn. "And here I was hoping that at least _one_ of you would've gotten past the beginner level."

"It's not necessarily their fault, Dud," Harry said placatingly. "It's not their fault they're stuck in a world of _enforced_ _conformity_."

"True, that," Dudley acknowledged with visible annoyance.

"Ah, what level?" one of the Hufflepuffs asked, glancing at the blank pillar questioningly.

"He means that there was more to this challenge than meets the eye," Harry stated. "This bet was a test for us to examine your mental flexibility as well as your strength. You all got as far as you were able to because you didn't try to think for yourselves. You all saw one person try to do the test one way, and you all copied him. As such, you all got the same result: failure."

"But—the pole's too high!" an indignant French voice snapped out angrily. " _How_ did you _expect_ us to reach it with those _dead weights_ on our arms?!"

"Yeah, it's like you were _jinxing us to fail!_ "

" _What was the point of this?!_ "

Holding up his hand for silence, Harry waited a moment before answering. "Like I said, you all saw one way to try to get to the top. But you didn't stop to try and think of…other possibilities. And there _are_ others! Remember, we said the only rule to reach the top was to have both of the weights with you. We never said _how_ you could use them."

"Allow me to demonstrate!" Dudley chirped, sneering at the crowd as he walked up to the pole with both weights in his hands. He made sure that he was standing to the side of the pole, so all of them could see what he was about to do. As he reached the pole, he swung the weights up behind the pole in such a way that the leather straps wrapped around each other and became entangled. Then, using them as a such, he planted his feet on the pole to anchor and stabilize himself while he began to pull himself steadily up it, reaching the top in less than a minute. Snatching Harry's dagger in his teeth, he slackened his grip and slid back to the ground gracefully. Spitting out the dagger towards Harry, Dudley put the weights back in their box.

Turning back to the audience as he sheathed the dagger, Harry almost grinned at their looks of dumbfounded realization and annoyance. "The ability to think outside the box, to find unorthodox means, to be mentally flexible, to be creative is a _very important_ part of what we have to teach. You see, most of the magic you're going to be learning is going to be largely _self-taught_. I can only show you the stances, but _you_ have to make them work. How well you learn or develop this magic will be entirely based on how much effort _**you**_ put into it."

"Now, come," he said, beckoning the group to follow him inside the temple itself. "It's time for your final tests."

Throwing open the large double doors, the group stepped in and found themselves awash in blinding light for a few moments. But after their eyes adjusted to the brightness, they looked around the interior and found themselves somewhat surprised. The interior of the temple was just one large room, utterly barren. The look and feel of the area was like some type of East Asian chapel, and yet, excluding the pillars that held up the roof, there seemed to be nothing of worship inside.

"What is this place?" a Durmstrang girl asked. "Is this a temple or a barn of some kind?"

"Neither!" Dudley said as he closed the doors behind himself. "This place is something _far_ more holy to us than any church or gospel could even hope to be! This is our personal dojo!"

"This way!" Harry called from where he now stood in the center of the dojo. As the students gathered around, he and Dudley quickly organized them into a loose circle. Once done, Harry and Dudley stepped into the center of the circle and Harry said, "Your final test is purely optional and very simple. You have to challenge either Dudley or me to a sparring match. The goal of this match is for you to land a single strike on us. But it doesn't matter if you win or lose. And the only rule you have to abide by that you _cannot_ use your wand against us. Wands are fragile things and we don't want to accidentally break yours during the match."

"Well, _**I**_ do," Dudley muttered, grinning sinisterly at the group as he cracked his knuckles loudly.

"And what happens if we don't hit you?" Tom asked, cautiously trying to examine this new test from every angle. If their earlier 'tests' were any indication, there was a hidden objective or meaning behind this one as well. But, for all his brilliance, Tom couldn't quite see just what they were hoping to learn. They must've known that no one here had any experience in hand-to-hand combat and very small thresholds of pain tolerance. What was the angle?

"Good question!" Harry said, nodding towards him with a smile. "We will be splitting you into groups after the match, those that do hit us and those that don't. Those that do hit us, you will be given a considerable honor, though you likely won't appreciate it until a few years in the future. For those of you who don't hit us, we'll at least know where you stand in terms of skill and experience."

"So, any takers?" Dudley asked, crossing his arms as an arrogant grin lit up his face as he looked around the group.

Seeing the considerable hesitation from the group, Harry added, "Remember, this is optional. And, if it'll help you feel better, you can choose which of us you want to spar against."

"…I'll do it," Tom said, sliding his outer cloak off and wrapping his wand up in it before dropping them to the ground. Stepping into the ring, he looked straight towards Harry as he said, "And I choose _you_ …Salamander."

"You sure got a fire in you, don't ya?" Dudley remarked as he backed out of the circle and joined his students in the encircling ring.

Raising his arms in a mimicry of Harry's stance, Tom waited for a moment to gather his courage and resolve. Harry just smiled benignly as he waited for his opponent to collect himself. Then, in a rush of movement, Tom rushed forward and threw a punch towards Harry's face. With obvious ease, Harry raised his arm and deflected the punch to the side. Having expected this, Tom jumped up and swung his leg up in a sweeping kick for Harry's side. Using the same that had deflected the punch, Harry caught Tom's leg in a vice grip and swung with the kick's momentum, lifting the elder boy and slamming him down into the wooden floor.

Winded and hurt but unwilling to quit, Tom pushed himself to the side and hurriedly climbed to his feet, watching Harry wearily. ' _As I thought, fighting with such simple tactics and means will do nothing but make a fool of myself. So, I guess it's time to get_ _ **unconventional**_ _. And he did say to that the only rule was not using my_ _ **wand**_.' A smirk crossed Tom's face as he settled back into the same loose stance he'd taken earlier. Seeing his opponent's smirk, Harry settled himself into a bit more of a solid defense stance, knowing his opponent was up to something.

"Come on," Harry beckoned, waving his outstretched hand invitingly. "Show me what you got."

"As you wish!" Tom barked, rushing forward again, jumping up into the air for a clumsy flying kick. But just as he was approaching and Harry was moving to intercept, Tom's body suddenly vanished with a loud _crack_ and reappeared behind Harry. Reacting at speeds that his opponent hadn't expected, Harry quickly relocated Tom and dropped down into a deep crouch, easily dodging the surprise attack. As Tom's body was flying overhead, Harry shot upward with a rising uppercut that caught Tom in his abdomen. The punch knocked him to the side and sent him careening haphazardly across the floor again.

"Clever idea," Harry said, smiling appraisingly at his struggling foe. "But you are far from the first opponent who's tried that trick on me. Granted, all of the others just tried to curse me, so the kick was different but not by much. Heh."

Heaving himself up and holding his throbbing stomach area, Tom glared heatedly over at his relaxed foe. ' _I…seem to have underestimated his experience with the Wizarding World. I guess all those rumors of his crazy adventures and getting into trouble from earlier_ _ **weren't**_ _just baseless lies after all… I really have to go all-out if I want to save face!_ ' Once again regaining his stance, Tom held his glare on Harry as he growled out, "Okay…No more fun and games!"

Rushing forward again, he moved to kick Harry, but immediately vanished with teleportation. Reappearing behind Harry, only to disappear again as Harry spun to face him. Reappearing to the side, Tom landed his upraised leg and threw a punch while simultaneously teleporting again. Hearing the return crack to his side, Harry raised his arm to defend himself from Tom's punch. But before he could react, Tom disappeared and reappeared on his other side with a spinning kick. Blocking that kick and catching the leg, Harry tried to repeat his earlier throw. However, now pumped full of adrenaline and anger, Tom reacted much faster than he had earlier, throwing a punch towards Harry's face even while in mid-throw. Raising his other hand, Harry caught his punch. But Tom wasn't finished, swinging his free leg down to try and drive his knee into Harry's cranium. Raising his upraised arm, Harry blocked the knee on his forearm.

Seeing a wide-open opening, Tom thrust his free hand forward towards Harry's unprotected stomach. Harry spotted Tom's intention and reacted quickly, releasing Tom and jumping backwards to dodge the punch, but was only partially successful. Both Harry and Tom felt the elder teen's knuckles graze his shirt before he'd managed to react. Tumbling out of the air, Tom was unable to get his feet underneath him in time. This resulted in him landing in an awkward crash that looked more painful than it really was. Laying on the ground for a moment, he fought to get his breath back as he glared up at Harry. Meanwhile, Harry slid back across the floor a few meters with a frown on his face. ' _He actually managed to touch me. He's also very, very fierce once he gets going. I'm_ _ **very**_ _impressed_.'

Seeing Tom climbing to his feet and preparing to rush forward, Harry held up his hand in a stopping gesture. "That's enough. You hit me. Congratulations!"

Blinking slightly, Tom found himself startled out of his combat-centric tunnel vision as applause suddenly erupted around him. Looking around in surprise, it took a few moments for him to remember that he had had an audience to the fight the whole time.

"Now, that was awesome!" Dudley chirped as he appeared next to Tom with his arm around his shoulders. "You are _definitely_ going to be one of our _better_ disciples! I can tell! _Great job_ taking Harry down a peg or two there!"

"Like _you're_ one to talk, Dud," Harry snapped back, getting more than a few nods and mutters of agreement from the group around them.

And so began the long series of sparring matches. In the end, less than half of the students who were watching the fights actually volunteered. Of those that fought, there were barely a dozen who managed to actually touch, let alone strike, either of the boys. And thus, three distinct groups began to form. Those that fought and hit them, those that didn't hit them, and those that refused to fight at all for whatever reason. But unlike with the pillar test earlier, it seemed that some of the students had realized just how open the rules of engagement were. This was best demonstrated when Draco moved forward to challenge Dudley, he called out Theodore Nott and Zacharias Smith help him to tag-team Dudley. They failed utterly, more so making fools of themselves and each other, but Dudley and Harry just smiled in approval the entire time.

* * *

 _By: Fiori75_

Location: Unknown

Three years. Three long and hard years, that were now even bordering on four. For all that time, she and her retinue had followed him, that fool of a Gaijin, across the Sea of Japan and through China and Russia. She had seen the aftermath of the Salem fools and the corpse of a fully grown Hungarian Horntail dragged quietly away by silent members of the Auror task force that had responded to the attack. It had both impressed and saddened her, to see kin kill kin. But if the Gaijin was as strong of a ryuchi (1) as she was beginning to expect, it spoke well of his abilities. Using fire to burn a dragon was _supposed_ to be impossible. But as she had come to learn, that word meant very little to her quarry.

She followed him all the way to central Europe after that before losing him for a time, only for both he and another to pop up in Finland fighting _trolls_! Apparently, a tribe of them had decided to attack a muggle village and the two young men had taken offense to that. From there, it had become a mad game of catch up as the Gaijin and his cousin appeared and disappeared across all of Europe. They never stayed in one place for longer than a week before disappearing again. For three years, this had continued. And in that time, she had come to understand that Salamander and his cousin were proving to beyond anything she could have dreamt up, outside of the old legends.

It surprised and impressed her that one of Britain's Junketsu (2) had taken to practicing the traditions of her home. She had heard that they had taken to thinning their blood of late. Perhaps one of traitors during the Meiji Restoration had survived and made it to Europe? If he had done that, then perhaps he had managed to share his ways just as the clans of the age had feared the traitors would.

It didn't matter in the end, because _now_ she had him.

He was in Scotland. And if the papers were to be believed, he would finally be setting down roots. Better still, he was doing so to share his ways. She couldn't ask for a better opportunity! Though she had to hurry, it wouldn't do to have him just spread what was likely a secret her family would _kill_ for to everybody. If he had truly held the secret to the lost act of creating Ketsuen-sha (3), then he was more valuable to her homeland than he could imagine. And even if he didn't, he just might know who did. Her instructions had been clear: to bring him into the family by any means.

She had accepted the task with open arms. After all, Shimazu Noriko still had a score to settle with that insufferable fool of a Gaijin.

* * *

( **Author's Note** ) Massive shout-out to **Fiori75** for helping me through certain difficult scenes in this chapter, especially for the ending scene. And thank you to **badassumbreon** for helping me with typos.

I know that most OCs are considered anathema for a lot of readers but **Fiori75** and I have been putting together a lot of background history, world-building info, and personal data on Noriko and the Shimazu clan, so hopefully you'll all come to at least tolerate her. There's a lot of random little tidbits like that that we're trying to incorporate into the story as a whole, hopefully to make it better and more 'worldly'.

But here's a little trivia info for all of you: the Shimazu lineage believe that their line was originally descended from dragons in Japanese folklore and the dragon is very important symbol of the clan.

1: Dragon blooded, a specific type of noble line in Japanese magical society.  
2: Pure blood: Japanese magicals actually use this term as an insult.  
3: Blood relative: The Japanese societal equivalent of Purebloods in British magical society


	7. Conspiracies Begin

**The Magic Revolution**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
 _#07: Conspiracies Begin_

 **June 29, 2015  
The Hangman's Noose, Knockturn Alley**

Several days had passed since the Twin Calamities had made their grand entrance into the Wizarding World, demonstrating the qualities of their new magic and discreetly testing their prospective disciples. Word had spread like wildfire throughout the populace, reaching far and wide, from the highest echelons of government to the deepest pits of street trash.

Marcus Flint, a proud pure-born wizard who was down on his luck, sat in the dilapidated pub of The Hangman's Noose, nursing a large goblet of vodka-rime. The magical cold drink was far from the delicacy of gigglewater or the more widely used and favored firewhiskey. It was a cheap mix of Muggle vodka and ice magic; perfect for a poor wizard and meant to get him as sloshed as possible in the shortest amount of time. And Marcus hated it _passionately,_ even as he took yet another sip of it before idly letting out a small breath of icy mist. The pureblood wizard couldn't help scowling in disgust at the patrons around him. Unlike most days, the rundown pub was a hive of activity and rather loud conversations and rumors. And, as was growing typical lately, the primary topic of discussion was the emergence of the fabled lost Boy-Who-Lived and his peculiar cousin.

"I'm telling you that's what I heard!" the shallow-faced and bruised Norbert was hissing to his companion across the table. "And Tiara can back me up!" The ugly witch seated in the wizard's lap provocatively nodded in agreement.

"I still don't believe it!" Dereth the Brute, a monster of a man with zero magical aptitude for most high- or even mid-level magic, grunted out. "Magic gets stronger by rolling in the dirty like a filthy muggle? Ridiculous!" He was referencing one of two new rumors that had cropped up recently. "Utter nonsense!"

"I agree," Lexis the Whore said as she rubbed herself up against Dereth's large arms, while glaring at Tiara for daring to try and take attention away from her. "What does a pair of snot-nosed brats know of magic? I also heard that they were raised by Muggles. Muggles!"

And she was right to believe that. What could a pair of boys who had been raised by Muggles and had zero experience of the Wizarding World, its history, or the mysteries and intricacies of magic possibly know about it? There were entire branches of the ministry and countless independent researchers all over the world running all manner of experiments and creation theories for the past several millennia. And yet two ignorant boys (not even old enough to learn how to shave at that!) claimed to have learned more about magic and its mysteries than even the best of researchers? That was most assuredly childish arrogance at its height!

"I bet I know what they're up to!" Dereth proclaimed vehemently. "They're trying to set us up for more witch hunts and throw us to the Inquisition again!"

"Yeah!" Tiara agreed, nodding. "It runs in the filthy mud they call blood! Who on earth would take anything they say seriously?!"

"The Minister, the ICW, and even You-Know-Who, and you know it," Marcus cut in decisively. He took another small sip of his vodka-rime as his companions turned to look at the until-now silent wizard. Blowing out another icy breath, he continued, "And all this arguing is pointless, unless you want to help me _do something_ about it…?" He trailed off, letting a small smirk cross his poorly-washed face.

"What have you got in mind?" Norbert asked, cocking his head inquisitively as he adjusted Tiara's weight in his lap.

"I've heard a rumor that the Twin Calamities live with Muggles in a certain tower in London," Marcus said lowly, earning nods from the others as this was hardly knew news. "You know what that means? It means that, with them off at Hogwarts, who's at home, watching those poor, pitiful, _defenseless_ animals from possible…fanatics?"

Even before he finished speaking, Marcus knew that he'd gotten their attentions as wide, sinister, and ugly smiles and grins crossed their faces. Marcus smiled benignly into his goblet as he took another sip, letting his companions begin discussing the possibilities that had just been unveiled to them. This was all part of Marcus's brilliant plan.

He was indeed a pureblood down on his luck. Despite being a fresh Hogwarts graduate, he had already lost nearly all of his gold to those accursed goblins several months ago. It had happened when his previous employer, a dark lord in France, had been mysteriously killed in a 'cataclysmic magical incident' in his manor. Now, Marcus was just floundering, drifting from one dingy pub to the next, searching for anyone who could use the services of an amoral murderer like himself. He needed a benefactor to help him get gold back into his pockets, so he could reestablish himself and get out of the gutter that he'd been kicked into. But since his only real skill was death and murder, his number of clients was very limited and hard to come by. Thanks to that though, as he was skulking about the trash of the wizarding world, he'd heard the rumors that a certain Dark Lord was back and on the rise again in Great Britain. Maybe he'd just found his potential benefactor. However, getting an audience with the Dark Lord was very difficult at the best of times, and nearly impossible for a washed-up wizard like him.

Thus, he needed to do something quite outstanding to garner the Dark Lord's attention enough to warrant a visit.

"Alright, that's that!" Dereth stated as he suddenly stood up, shuffling Lexis to the side as he did. "I'm in! Let's go find those worthless Muggles and show the Twin Calamities what happens when they start spreading lies!"

"Yeah!" Tiara agreed wholeheartedly, Lexis and Norbert nodding. Marcus just smiled as he finished his drink, standing up to follow his new minions as they quickly departed the pub. Once the deed was done, maybe he'd bring them back here for a little 'victory party', where disposing of them would be simplicity in itself. That way, he'd earn all of the Dark Lord's praise for himself _alone_.

* * *

 **Hogwarts**

"You seem…tired, Draco," Lucius Malfoy said, glancing over at his son. The pair of them were seated at a small table at an equally small diner that had sprung up in Tent City by an entrepreneur (one of many) who had seen the potential of the situation. Indeed, his usually calm and regal son looked like he was about to collapse from sheer exhaustion, slouching in his chair like some hooligan in a pub, a state that the stately man had never seen in his son before. To say his son was merely 'tired' was an incredible understatement and very misleading.

Despite being in close proximity to one another for the past several days, this was the first chance that either of them had to reunite. Lucius had been positively swamped by the workload of running the International Wizengamot and keeping tempers from flaring between rival nations. With how busy he'd been, he'd had zero opportunities to check in on Draco and what he was occupied with. Although, he could make a relatively safe educated guess that the boy was trying to ingratiate himself to the self-proclaimed 'Salamander'.

"Yes, father," Draco said shortly, his exhaustion carrying over into his voice as he looked lazily over at Lucius. "I have been…busy these past few days. You have no idea just how exhausting it is trying to keep up with Potter. I swear, the guy's got more energy than a pixie drunk on gigglewater!" Lucius blinked at the strange image his son's words conjured, recalling several horror stories that'd taken place across the Wizarding World in centuries past that began the same way.

"I take it you're trying to 'befriend' him then?" Lucius asked, sipping his water as he tried to move past the strange image. He had to restrain the grimace as he eyed the water distastefully. ' _Firewhiskey would be so much_ _ **better**_ _right now_ ,' he thought forlornly. But a publicly drunk Supreme Mugwump was not only a bad idea, but potentially career suicide, especially right now. "I hope you're doing your utmost best to succeed."

"Of course, father," Draco stated looking slightly miffed, feeling somewhat insulted at his father's attitude. "But it's…difficult."

Lucius, for his part, merely raised his brow, silently prompting his son to continue.

Sighing heavily, Draco took a second to clear his mind and rearrange his thoughts. But with how exhausted he was, his normally quick thought processes were as lethargic as his body right now. "He has setup a routine these past few days. He invites those of us who want to train down into his trunk. There, he and the Saiyan put us through a bunch of weird tests. And then—"

"What are they testing you for?" Lucius interrupted.

"…Creativity, determination, pain tolerance, our physical and magical endurance, how we move, how we think, how we react in bunch of strange situations, …a lot of stuff," Draco said, watching his father's expression as he listed off the different tests. For some reason, despite how much he'd come to loathe those seemingly endless tests and competitions, Draco felt a surge of…something well up inside him as he saw his father's expression change from surprise to disgust and finally to confusion.

"What are they hoping to learn from all that?" Lucius asked, speaking more to himself than Draco. ' _And how can they keep track of all that with so many hundreds, if not thousands, of potential students lining up to learn from them?_ '

"I really don't know how, but I suspect they're doing all this to judge what kind of magic they're going to teach us," Draco stated. Seeing his father's quirked eyebrow, he continued, "Potter was very clear that he cannot teach us exactly everything he knows about magic. That we have to discover that by ourselves. And that magic is as unique to the wizard as the wizard is as a person."

Lucius was silent for a few moments as he considered this. He supposed that he could understand some of that. Why start teaching his students right away if only certain people can learn certain types of magic more easily than others? That was even true in the Wizarding World, with certain families and individuals who were naturally more skilled at certain types of magic like Charms, Transfiguration, and Dark Magic. But there was also another and very distinct possibility. Turning his attention back to Draco, he asked, "And do you believe him in that? Could he be lying about all this? Or simply trying to stall teaching magic until his final students have been selected?"

"…Yes, I do believe he was telling the truth," Draco admitted. "Potter and the Saiyan are very…open with their explanations and expectations. I doubt either of them could tell a convincing lie to save their lives."

Okay, that much Lucius could agree with. After several meetings with the boys over the past few days, Lucius had also come to that same conclusion as his son. However, there had also been a chance, no matter how small, that the strange dynamic the pair had was all just an act to fool the politicians. How they acted in private or behind closed doors would've either proven or disproven that theory. The fact that they kept up this act meant that either they were most committed and convincing con artists in all of Wizarding Europe (which, given the escapade in Spain he'd witnessed, was a possibility), or that was how they really were as people.

Lucius wasn't sure which option he'd prefer.

"How many students have they selected thus far for this 'summer school' of theirs?" Lucius asked, returning back to the original topic.

"I really don't know," Draco admitted somewhat sheepishly. "The number of students present at each test is different every time. Although, there have been a number of consistent ones who show up every time, like the Triwizard Champions." Thankfully, Draco was included among that number since he made it a point to be present at every training session he could. Sadly, his efforts to get Potter or even the Saiyan alone so he could have a proper talk with them about their plans or potential alliances for the Wizarding World's future were proving rather unproductive since, apparently, everyone else also wanted to have conversations with the pair.

"Any families that _we_ should be paying attention to?" Lucius asked, leaning forward slightly in anticipation.

"Not really, father," Draco said with a slight smirk, finding a momentary surge of energy. "Apparently, given how they treated certain House members early on in Hogwarts and the confrontation they had with the Weasley Twins afterwards, I haven't seen too many Gryffindors or even Light-sided families showing interest or even approaching them. They seem to think that Potter is a Dark Wizard because he threatened a few of them for being fools."

A satisfied smirk crossed Lucius's face. ' _ **Perfect**_ _! He's just returned and he's_ _ **already**_ _making an enemy of himself to who would've been his strongest supporters! My Lord will be most_ _ **pleased**_ _to learn this!_ ' "And the other students?"

"That's…where things get tricky, father," Draco said, glancing to the side for a moment as a frown crossed his face. "Aside from the Dark families, the rest of the students are all Mudbloods. And they seem to have already known about the boys! Much more than the rest of us do." Seeing his father's raised eyebrow, he continued, "They're often asking them questions about certain feats or events that I've never heard about before. Places they've been, people they've met."

"Can you give an example?"

"Well, I heard that they have been making frequent trips to Japan," the younger Malfoy said. "That they are apparently good friends with a pair of native authors there. And every time they mention something about a 'future collaboration' between the authors, the Mudbloods start getting very excited and beg for more information or hints."

"I fail to see how this has any relevance to your earlier point," Lucius stated. Indeed, what Draco had just shared was hardly groundbreaking enough to warrant a reference of any type.

Draco just gave his father a somewhat disappointed glance as he clarified himself. "They, Mudbloods, are aware of a couple of book series that is apparently popular enough to have reached Great Britain from Japan. Book series by a pair of authors who we, Wizards, have never heard of before now…"

Lucius tried puzzling this out quickly. The pieces were there but they hadn't yet clicked into place. A book series that Mudbloods knew of and was well-loved, but Pureblood Wizards knew nothing of—! Then, like a Lumos spell bursting to life, he suddenly understood. "The boys are in contact with the Muggle World?!"

"And have likely been so for years," Draco said bluntly, nodding his head as he again slouched down into his chair. "Potter said that he and the Saiyan have fought in multiple tournaments across the world. That they are extremely famous to the Muggles for such."

"And there's the fact that they are rambunctious children with incredible magics that have been fighting and fleeing from the magical law numerous times," Lucius said, speaking more to himself than his son at this point. "In that situation, it's hardly a leap to say that they've been intentionally exposing magic to Muggles all across the world for years, and probably much more frequently than we're even aware of happening!"

"It also explains why every year we've had so many Mudblood students coming to Hogwarts and start asking weird questions about magic," Draco said, nodding to his father. "Stuff like if they can learn wandless magic to control the elements, to fly, to do all manner of magic unassisted."

"Magic has been exposed," Lucius uttered, his gaze glazing over as the sheer enormity of the situation hit him full on. "It has been exposed…for years…" Horror could not even _begin_ to describe his reaction to that revelation.

"Maybe, maybe not," Draco said, Lucius snapped his attention to him as he continued. "What if…What if the Muggles think that it's _just_ the Salamander and the Saiyan? What if they still don't know about the Wizarding _World_ , but they do know that there's…possibilities of something _more_ out there now? What if they're waiting for more people like _them_ to emerge now? What if they're waiting for the boys to start taking on _students_?"

Despite the fear and alarm that had been surging through Lucius moments ago, his son did bring up some interesting points. Ideas that would most assuredly demand a much closer and much more thorough examination of the Muggle World. Questions that needed answering, if only to determine just how deteriorated the Statute of Secrecy had become in recent times. These thoughts helped to further calm the panicky wizard down.

' _Lord Voldemort will_ _ **not**_ _be pleased about this_ ,' Lucius realized with a heavy heart of fear.

* * *

 **Malfoy Manor**

Thankfully for Lucius, he wasn't the one to bear the bad news to the sinister Dark Lord. That privilege was shouldered by his apprentice.

"I see…" Voldemort hissed out, his mind reeling as he tried to process this incredible new information. But after only a few moments, he realized that the ramifications of what this could mean for the worlds was too immense and too easily unpredictable for him to consider at the moment. He needed to take a few hours alone with some intense planning to even begin to know how to react to it, and then a few days (or weeks) to really plan out how he could use this to his advantage. So, that being the case, he pushed thoughts forcefully to the side and refocused his attention on Delamort. "Tell me, my apprentice, have the rumors I have been hearing the truth or are some of my spies simply trying to get into my good graces?"

"That depends on what 'rumors' you are referring to…my Lord," Delamort bit out. Despite having his back to the young man, being seated in a chair in the library once again, Voldemort knew that Delamort's head was bowed from his kneeling posture behind the Dark Lord. He knew his apprentice well enough that he could guess the aspiring dark lord was forcefully gritting his teeth to keep his wrath contained behind an otherwise expressionless face. Not that he needed to keep his face blank, considering the golden and green jeweled mask he wore to hide him from his father's underlings. Combined with the deep hood that was pulled over his hair, his identity was perfectly hidden away.

"You _know_ what rumors I speak of," Voldemort snapped out, his patience quickly waning at his son's continuing defiance. Honestly, after almost two years, he'd have thought the boy would've finally moved past his rebellious streak! "Did you enroll yourself in _Potter's_ training program— _without my permission_ —or not?!"

"…I did," Delamort acknowledged reluctantly. He knew his father was just a few seconds from eruption. And once that happened, there'd be no reasoning with him. That being the case, he quickly continued in a hurried voice, "I wanted to see if his new magic was everything it was hyped up to be. And, from what few secrets he's already shared, it definitely has potential t—"

" _You enrolled_ _**without**_ _my permission!_ " Voldemort interrupted, his anger flaring as Delamort knew it would. Voldemort's mere presence was mighty to most wizards, and even with his back to him, he was positively terrifying when he was enraged. "By doing this, you have altered and _ruined_ quite a few of my plans _for this summer!_ "

"We _both_ know that you have no _need_ for my presence in _any_ of those plans," Delamort stated bluntly, looking up to glare at the chair and his father's back defiantly. Oh, it would be _so_ _easy_ to cast any number of lethal spells at him right now! A fact that Voldemort knew full well and was purposely tempting his son into doing. "The only reason you even included me any of them was to keep me occupied and under control." When Voldemort made no verbal response, Delamort knew that he'd made his point. "But by me signing up for this summer school, I not only free you up to act as you wish, but I can keep a much closer watch on our enemy and, should the need arise, put a dagger in his back when he's least expecting it."

"…Yes," Voldemort hissed, a small but pleased smile crossing his face at Delamort's suggestion of literally backstabbing their enemy in such a way. "Yes. That would be a most delightful way of handling the fool boy… Very well, you may continue with this activity."

"Stop acting as though you've got a choice in the matter, father," Delamort barked out, now grinning quite conceitedly behind his mask. "I had to sign a magical contract just to be able to take a few of the Salamander's tests to see if I was even worthy of learning his magic. And, if the boy's paranoia is as thorough as I think it is, I'll have to sign several more if I'm selected as his student. _You_ have no say in this matter, and you know it."

A deep tension filled the air following those words as Voldemort silently seethed, knowing Delamort was correct. Taking that long moment to recollect himself, Voldemort hissed out an angry sigh as he said, "I don't know where you get all this defiance from. Maybe from your _mother_? She was a right little spitfire, from what I've heard of her."

"I clearly didn't inherit any courage from _you_ , _father_ ," Delamort shot back, grinning conceitedly.

He was baiting Voldemort and they both knew it. And, as they also both knew, Voldemort took the bait; hook, line, and sinker. The brief glimpse he had of the barely contained annoyance and anger on Voldemort's face as he suddenly spun the chair around was very, _very_ satisfying to Delamort. And even as Voldemort launched a quick Crucio onto the boy, that look of Voldemort being powerless to interfere and the reminder of his own cowardice was something that kept Delamort quite exultant throughout the torture.

* * *

 **The Three Broomsticks**

Sipping at her firewhiskey, Tonks couldn't help the slight flinch as a jolt of pain shot through the arm holding her mug. Once again back in her normal body, the now-adult Tonks was leaning back heavily into the back rest of the booth she was seated in as she waited. After several days of tests and working herself to near-total physical exhaustion, Tonks felt that she was just two steps away from collapsing into her bed and sleeping for a week. ' _Ooooohh, how wonderful that would be!_ ' she thought blissfully. Though she would likely never know it, Tonks was actually handling the pain and exhaustion much better than her spoilt young cousin, Draco Malfoy.

"There you are!" a deep, commanding voice barked from beside Tonks, jolting her out of her reverie. Looking up, she found herself biting back a reflexive gulp of nervousness as her boss, Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour slid into the seat on the opposite side of the booth. The man's gaze was stern and uncompromising as it always was. "You were supposed to report back to the Ministry _two days ago_ , Auror. Not only did you miss your _deadline_ , but you called me _here_ just to find you getting yourself _drunk_? You had better have one bloody damn well good reason for me _not_ to fire you right here and now!"

Normally, Tonks would've been quite cowed under this type of tongue lashing and the angry gaze that her boss was directing towards her. But right now, exhausted and somewhat addle-brained thanks to the alcohol, Tonks just let her boss's bad mood slide right off her. Setting her mug aside, she reached into her robes and pulled out a scroll that she set on the table and rolled over her to boss with as little effort as she could manage. "I have complied my findings on the boys, their theories on magic, their exercises and tests, and even a few philosophical discussions I've participated in on that. It took a while, there was a lot of information to go through."

Taking up the scroll and unrolling it slightly, Scrimgeour started reviewing some of the information. After a moment, he nodded and rolled it up, tucking it into his robes. "Very well, I'll review it shortly. Now, why haven't you reported in sooner? It shouldn't be all that hard to sneak away after the end of the class with the boys."

"You underestimate just how _long_ those sessions are, boss," Tonks grunted out, glaring slightly at her boss, more liquid courage addling her brain. "Or just how _exhausting_ those exercises and tests are!"

"And just how long are these classes?" Scrimgeour asked, quirking an eyebrow at Tonks' blatant disrespect.

"On average? The shortest of them is _five hours long_ , and that's only because most of the students had to keep returning back to their schools to get ready for the end of the year feasts, festivities, and tests. And yet the Saiyan and Salamander are constantly complaining about how _short_ these sessions are because of that. I've been getting the distinct impression that they'd happily work us to the bone for _twice_ that length if they could!"

Despite himself, Scrimgeour couldn't help quirking his eyebrows in surprise. Even the most intense physical workout periods and training sessions that Aurors had to regularly undergo rarely lasted more than an hour's time. Looking closer at his underling, he noted that the young woman did indeed seem quite certain in her story. There were none of the subtle flinches or side glances or restlessness that hinted towards a person begin untruthful to him. The boys really were that extreme in what and how they were teaching their students? ' _…Interesting_.'

"Very well then," Scrimgeour stated, letting that matter drop. "Tell me, do they suspect you of anything?"

Tonks took a moment to consider that. Looking back on all of her interactions with the boys, there didn't seem to be any differences to how they treated her and any of their other students. Shaking her head, she said, "No, sir. The most they've commented on is how I'm a homeschooled witch. Beyond that, nothing."

"Well, that's a relief," Scrimgeour said, looking as pleased as the stern man could manage. "How good are your chances to getting accepted for their school?"

"I…really don't know, sir," Tonks admitted. "They are surprisingly tight-lipped about those details. At every session, they usually have us perform a series of tests with either hidden or very difficult to reach objectives. But they have never outright told someone to leave because they failed or refused to take the test. And they seem to have an open-door policy, always letting as many students into the sessions as they can, even if those same students had failed the previous day's tests…Although, they do seem to pay more attention to the students who show up more often than those that don't."

"Interesting," Scrimgeour uttered thoughtfully. ' _What could they be testing them for? And how are they keeping track of them all?_ ' Turning his attention back to Tonks, he said, "Tell me about the students. What factions do they hail from? How many Light-sided, Dark-sided, Pureblood, or Muggleborn have shown up? Do the boys seem to favor one group over the others? Have they taken a liking to any particular families or alliances in any regard?"

Tonks knew what he was fishing for here. As Head Auror, it was his job to police Wizarding Britain and the surest way to preempt most crimes these days was to be as politically aware of the shifting and churning waters of the bureaucratic Ministry as possible. Such information was not only quite useful in predicting which group might take radical and extreme means to achieve their goals, but it also helped them to prepare for the next round of retaliation that the offended parties might take. But, even beyond that, given the international nature of present events, he was also in the undeserved and arduous position of potentially preparing his Aurors for a war of global proportions.

"Well…" she began, looking rather uncertain as she puzzled out the info she could remember. "I know for a fact that neither of the boys have even hinted towards forming alliances with any of the usual suspects. They are just too focused on training us and each other…for the time being at least. But as for who's there, by my estimation, more than third of the more committed students are Purebloods and most of them I recognize from Dark families. The rest of them are mostly Muggleborns or Halfbloods from neutral families. It's a very…diverse group, sir."

"…Indeed," Scrimgeour muttered, his mind whirling as he tried to find the picture from these jigsaw pieces he was given.

A majority of Dark family heirs from the Purebloods was a definite power group with the potential to become a very politically active faction. However, Muggleborns were a stark contrast to that power block, representing everything that those Purebloods stood against. So, the presence of Muggleborns cancelled out any Dark agenda from that corner.

Muggleborns themselves tended to fall into the neutral factions, since they rarely ever worked up the capital and political finesse to get much headway in a Ministry run almost exclusively by Purebloods nowadays. Thus, unable to vote or effect change in any manner, most Muggleborns had and would happily fall to the wayside and let the status quo continue. But if they were pressed into a corner and had to choose a side, they'd almost always choose the 'Light' side since the Purebloods would sooner execute or enslave them.

Unless the boys were attempting to garner support from the Muggleborns and build their own new faction from them. Even if they were denied access into the Ministry's ranks and forced to work separately from the Ministry, they'd have a very large and serious power block under their control. Much larger and potentially even more powerful than even the Purebloods, since Muggleborn families now outnumbered Purebloods 10 to 1. But, again, the presence of the Dark family heirs would likely disrupt and negate any type of power block before it could even begin to form as the heirs would likely realize what was happening and take steps to prevent it from happening. Maybe not successfully and instantly, but more than enough to get the attention of their parents who would take more drastic and powerful actions to stop the boys.

So, that being the case, what were the boys trying to accomplish with all this? All of these thoughts and suspicions were circling and bouncing about Rufus's head in an endless cycle as he looked for an angle to fit these pieces together. But there just didn't seem to be one. He knew this and yet… _Argh!_ This was so _frustrating!_

"What about any weaknesses?" Scrimgeour said, almost painfully tearing his attention from that previous dilemma to the next subject. "There _has_ to be a weakness to their magic _somewhere!_ All that power can't come without some kind of _cost!_ Have to you seen _anything_ that might hint towards what it might be?!"

Tonks just spared her boss a raised eyebrow at his slightly raised and angry voice. Though she couldn't be certain, he must've been frustrated that he couldn't see a potential angle on the boys' political aims. And when Rufus Scrimgeour gets frustrated, he tends to take it out on his underlings in unpleasant ways. Normally, seeing her boss in this state would've deeply frightened her, but with the liquid courage still flowing in her system, she found herself again just letting his anger bounce off her hide harmlessly. "The only times I've seen the boys even remotely close to tired or in distress is whenever they spar with one another… And I mean seriously spar, not the childish shoving contests and showing off like they did at the tournament."

"What?" Scrimgeour said, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "What do you mean 'showing off at the tournament'?"

"What I mean is that if they had been seriously trying to, they could've easily destroyed the entire stadium and all of us Aurors there in one minute, if not sooner. They were showing off, not taking us seriously at all. Even when they have a group of us fight against them, using our wands even, they never look even close to winded. I've only ever seen them sweat or start bleeding whenever they fight one another."

"…Which means that only someone of equal or greater strength to them can possibly hurt or even stop them," Scrimgeour said lowly, frowning angrily as he tried to digest that information. He hadn't been present at the tournament during the initial crisis, not even when a panicked aide of the Minister can come rushing in crying for help against the attackers, since he'd been at home sleeping and relaxing. He'd only come into the situation after the boys had already surrendered, so he had no way of knowing just how dangerous they truly were. And despite the many witnesses all claiming the same thing, it was still a difficult pill to swallow, accepting that there were people (if only just the two of them right now) that were so unbelievably powerful.

Sighing in frustration again, he looked back up at his spy and snapped out, "Very well then. Continue with your assignment. And I will expect more frequent reports as the days go on!"

"Yes sir," Tonks groaned out unhappily as she seemed to slouch even deeper into her seat. But Scrimgeour paid her depression no mind as he abruptly rose to his feet and marched out of the restaurant.

* * *

 _By: Fiori75_

 **London**

Cities tended to smell.

Noriko had come to expect this as she had been in many cities before while searching for Salamander, but it still bothered her. Just how could the Junketsu let the city they shared space with become so polluted? She knew for a fact that in Japan many of her fellow Ketsuen-sha, who practiced their craft with the gem, made regular trips to help purify many of the pollutants created by the ningens'(1) insane technology. Otherwise many of the families might go mad from the smell. Yet in every city she had been to on the mainland, the cities were filled with smog and worse. Some were better than others, but London was not proving itself to be one of them.

In a way, she could see the brilliance of the Gaijin's scheme here. If a Ketsuen-sha fleeing from pursuers had indeed made it this far, the smog of the city would do marvels to mask their scent. However, something like that would not stop _her_ from finding her quarry. Because Noriko had also come to realize that there was another brilliant part in choosing cities to hide in, one that she now had a leg up on. Over the past four years she had been forced to actually endure the many different cities, she had noticed a side benefit of growing used to the stench. It acted as surprisingly decent training for their noses, simply by learning to deal with the smog. Once the horrid stench of the cities became just another piece of background noise to them, picking out individual scents had become much easier for herself and her kinsmen, especially when they returned to the rural parts of the world.

That was how they had finally found a scent trail of their quarry. They followed the very distinct scent of the dragon as it meandered through the city. It had to be Salamander, the only other possibility was to speculate about an another unknown Ketsuen-sha. Better to presume it was something familiar than to conjure up images of yet more fools like the Gaijin, in her modest opinion.

"Hey, nee-chan, what's that!?" Speaking of fools, her younger brother, Kazuma, had wandered away from the group to gaze in awe at some ningen device, _again_. She knew on a certain level that this was just merely the result of kids being kids, as Kazuma was only twelve. However, this logic quickly fell apart when she remembered that the brat had also snuck along with them, and that he wasn't supposed to be here!

It was with no small amount of satisfaction that Noriko made her displeasure known to Kazuma with a sharp swat to his thick skull with her sheathed blade. She of course also had a rant that she was working up to about why he should be quiet for once in his life, else she would do unspeakable things to him. It would have cowed him into such obedience that he would never have dreamt to ever disobey her ever again. Naturally, of course, one of the other fools she had been told would be accompanying her on her mission decided to distract her.

"Mah, mah Noriko-chan, go easy on the kid. This thing _is_ pretty weird." Her cousin Ichiro said idly while tapping the tall blue box with his sword.

"… It's a kōban. We have them back home on damn near every block. How do you not know this?" There were times when Noriko cursed the strength of the dragon stock within her family. For while it made them exceptional warriors, many focused on nothing else but fighting. This narrow focus meant intense training that was meant to prepare them for real battle, both of which often led to injuries, especially head injuries. Which was the only conceivable reason Noriko would accept for why many of her clansmen tended to be idiots. Because if she accepted the fact that they were born this way, then that would make _her_ the crazy one. And she simply refused to accept that. Not when it meant acknowledging that she was some sort of fluke rather than what each and every one of her clansmen could be, if they would just stop headbutting rocks for fun!

"How were we supposed to know? There doesn't look like there's any room to sit down in there at all!" Noriko did have to admit that Azuma had a point, at least more of a point than their other cousin Ichiro. The blue box did indeed look uncomfortably small. Not even the smallest kōban she had seen had been so thin. Perhaps it was bigger on the inside?

No, she was getting distracted by them, again!

"It says so right there!" she growled as she pointed in the white English words. "Police Box." She could only hope the officer on duty within was amused by their 'tourist' attitude, as otherwise she might have to wire money from the clan to get one of these idiots out of jail… _again_. With a frustrated sigh, she narrowed her eyes and glared at her family as a sudden realization occurred to her. "None of you can actually _read_ English, can you?"

"Ahaha…nope," at least Otosaki, the last of her idiot cousins, had the decency to be honest, not that it did much to calm her however.

"… Can anyone here read _anything_ other than our native scripts?" She asked plainly, she was actually surprised when Tsuchiya and Tsukiko raised their hands. Then again, the twins weren't usually the cause of her headaches. Though when they were, they got creative in their mischief. Such was the influence of the wind upon her family's unruly tendencies, a dragon's inherent cunning drifting from fancy to fancy. That the twins knew other languages shouldn't surprise her. However, the sinking feeling she got from their hesitant smiles made her fear the worst.

"We focused on learning Thai and Hindi," Tsuchiya said quickly, his voice however failed to convey any apologetic feelings for this fact, even as he bowed his head in what should have been an apologetic manner.

"Sorry, no English," Tsukiko added, with a smile just as care free as her brother's. Their smiles were the cheerful smiles of those who poured fuel upon the fire, for all they cared about helping her. Noriko felt her headache double as their cheerful voices shattered yet another bit of her faith in her clansmen. No wonder their search had taken four years! It seemed that the only ones who had been able to actually gather information on their quarry had been herself and Kesshōmaru.

"Ah, Noriko-sama, I can read English." Speaking of Kesshōmaru, the lone member of her retinue that wasn't related to her seemed to be her one source of actual competency. The fact that she was of ningen no chi(2) probably had something to do with that, much as Noriko hated to admit it. Though when one considered that Kesshōmaru was the lone mirror user of their group, the fact that she had more learned than most ryuchi became understandable. She at least didn't have the same… passion for the physical arts as the rest of them, which was probably the reason Kesshōmaru had the least amount of brain damage out of all of them.

"That's… nice." Noriko sighed, as while the information didn't make her headache worse, it didn't decrease it either. Simply because Kesshōmaru's competency didn't really detract from the idiocy of the others. Nor did the older woman actually have any authority to reign in the others, such was the nature of her position in the family.

"Though, maybe we should focus on finding Pota-san rather than sightseeing? We do have a mission after all, Noriko-sama." Then again, the fact that Kesshōmaru tended to treat Noriko as if she was still a little girl was a frustrating point all on its own.

"Do you think I don't know that?!" Noriko finally snapped, her temper flaring higher than ever.

She was so close! That fool was finally within her reach and she had to deal with her idiot family delaying her. _Again!_ It was all she could do to keep herself from drawing her blade and attacking indiscriminately. The only reason why she didn't was the fact that they were still on the ningen side of the city. However she was quickly getting to the point that she wouldn't care about such things. If one more delay presented itself while her prey was this close, she would-

"Um, excuse me but did you say Potter? You wouldn't happen to be looking for Harry would you?" an unfamiliar English-speaking voice suddenly cut in, saving Noriko's family from her wrath.

The voice in turn belonged to a lanky teen dressed in the fashion of ningen, blue denim trousers and a red cotton shirt. Completely different from the traditional clothing she and her retinue were dressed in. His hair was cut short and dyed an artificial green that matched his eyes. When Noriko noticed the absurd amount of metal woven into his left ear, she correctly concluded that she was dealing with one of England's delinquents. However, the fact that he knew the name of her target made her more than willing to ignore his poor tastes.

"What's it to you?" Unfortunately, Kazuma seemed more than willing to try and start a fight with the stranger.

"Well, sorry, it's just you lot seem the type who'd come lookin' for him. Guess it was my mistake." The teen shrugged and looked to be preparing to leave before Noriko spoke.

"You know that insufferable fool?" she asked quickly. Hope and anger mixed in Noriko's voice as she stared at the delinquent. It was too strange of a coincidence for her to pass up. He smelled like a ningen, but there was also a faint fragrance of dragon on him. The fact that he smelt vaguely of dragon without actually producing the scent himself? This stranger had to know something about her quarry.

"Insufferable fool? Ha! Yeah, you're looking for Harry alright. Sorry though, he's not actually in the city right now," he said with a laugh as he shook his head fondly.

However, the laughter did nothing to ease the crushing weight Norkio felt settle upon her shoulders at his news. With a few simple words, whatever hopes and expectations she had been dreaming of had crashed and burned. Once again, he had slipped through her fingers! Was she _ever_ going to find him? How could she make him pay for humiliating her if she could never find him?! Maybe she could attack the bearer of bad news? It would certainly make her feel a tiny bit better. And besides, no one important would actually care if she injured some random Junketsu delinquent.

Yet before Noriko's wrath could coalesce into action, the teen continued, "However, if you guys stick around for a few days, you can find him here. Though, I'd be careful of coming into the dojo wearing that grudge of yours on your sleeve. Whatever lizard boy did to piss you off is probably well deserved, but the others won't be too happy if you come there looking to fight. Hell, the only reason _I'm_ not throwing down right now is cause I'm still pissed that he and Dud left us here." He said as he handed the now thoroughly confused Noriko a small business card.

It was a tiny thing listing an address somewhere within the city, as well as the numbers for the one of the ningen's communication devices, she couldn't help but look back at the stranger who had handed it to her.

"Who are you? And how do you know that fool of a Gaijin?" she found herself asking him, the words slipping almost unbidden from her mouth as her confusion grew.

"Name's Mal, and I've known that idiot and his cousin since primary," the delinquent replied even as he turned and began to walk away from them, waving farewell over his shoulder. "Hope I see ya on July first. Better get there before noon, or you'll miss him," he added before disappearing around a corner.

Noriko was half tempted to chase after him, to demand more answers. But instead turned her focus back to the card she had been handed. After all, she now knew exactly where her target would be, and even knew when he was going to be there. All she had to do was be there too, and then she would make him pay. Once more she looked back at the card, and for the first time that day felt a genuine grin of excitement stretch across her face. ' _Sleeping Dragons Dojo, going beyond the impossible. Such an ostentatious title, but if he wishes to tempt things in such a manner I suppose it should be my duty to show him why he should have let this dragon remain undisturbed_.'

* * *

( **Author's Note** ) It's not quite where I wanted to end it, but I think it'll do for now. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter.

1) Human: though Japanese magicals use this term for muggles.  
2) human blood: Japanese muggle born.

 **PLEASE REVIEW!**


	8. Dudley's Ultimatum

**The Magic Revolution**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
 _#08: Dudley's Ultimatum_

 **June 29, 2015  
Hogwarts**

"—and _that's_ why I'll never accept a cup of tea from an American again!" Harry declared proudly, hands on his waist as he jutted his chest out proudly, as though he'd accomplished a truly momentous feat.

"…You don't say," Tomaso said in a deadpan voice, giving Harry a disbelieving stare.

"I do say!" Harry chirped, grinning widely. He and Tomaso were seated on one of the cliffs overlooking Black Lake, Hogsmeade in the distance, and the mountainous expanse that surrounded the area.

Today was the last day of school for the various students. Tomorrow, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would depart for their home countries, returning their students back home, and Hogwarts students would board the Express back for London. Although he was headed for London himself, Harry felt rather sympathetic for the French and Eastern European students. By this point, he and Dudley had finally chosen their list of students and had each of them sign a magical contract that swore them to secrecy for the duration of their summer training. Of the chosen students, more than half of them came from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Which is why Harry felt rather sorry for them. Their respective Headmasters were essentially forcing them to make the near-ritualistic journey back to their schools for them to 'properly depart' before they'd be allowed to return to London to start the first phase of their training. But the worst part was that none of the students would be able to really get to see their parents as a result of this.

Since it was out of Harry's hands to control, he didn't bother trying to make a big fuss over it. And so, because nearly 98% of their chosen future disciples were busy packing, that left Harry and Dudley with surprisingly few people to speak with. Granted, today was also their last day up here and they'd be returning home later tonight, but it was still quite boring now that they didn't have masses of teenagers and kids to bother them. It was with great relief to Harry when Tomaso arrived and struck up a conversation with him.

"Harry," Tomaso said. "I've been wondering lately. What are you _really_ after?" At Harry's enquiring gaze, he continued, "Don't try to act all innocent and confused. I know there's a brain behind that façade you're putting up. What are you hoping will happen by training so many people—children, at that—in ways that could potentially give them enormous amounts of power in a comparatively short amount of time? You do realize that such power in the hands of children could cause a great deal of destruction, pain, and outrage in a many different ways, don't you?"

"…Are you really asking that type of question when you yourself are _scarcely eligible_ to be considered an _adult_ by any society of this world?" Harry asked in a slight deadpan voice.

"Perhaps," Tom admitted reluctantly, nodding to Harry's point. "But my point still stands. Children are more often than not arrogant and irresponsible little show-offs seeking attention. Are you truly sure it's wise to teach such potentially dangerous magic to such young children? If they become as strong or stronger than you, then wouldn't that mean that there'd be no one they'd listen to when they start getting into trouble? Wouldn't they realize that they could almost literally start getting away with murder in some cases? Terrorizing their peers, showing up their professors and authorities, causing untold damage and maybe even deaths?"

"You're right," Harry said. "There is always that risk of that happening. But Dudley and I already have something in the works to prevent that. It all comes down to instilling discipline, respect, and honor. Any one of those virtues would prevent a disciple of our way from heading down this dark path."

Despite himself, Tom couldn't help arching his brow. "You are putting a lot of faith in both your ability to teach those virtues and in your disciples to follow them. What happens if you…fail?"

"Then we'll deal with it, one way or another," Harry said curtly, his gaze hardening just slightly.

 _RING-RING!_ A sudden chime rang out, originating from Harry's pocket. _RING-RING!_ Reaching into his cargo pocket, Harry pulled out a strange rectangular object that Tom had never seen before. After swiping across its reflective surface, the Salamander raised it to his ear like a telephone and said, "Hey, Uncle Vernon, what's—?"

" _GET BACK DOWN HERE!_ " a deafening voice bellowed from the small speaker. It was so loud that Harry had to reflexively yank the whole device from his ear and even Tom found himself flinching back in surprise. Honestly, how could _any_ man possibly yell loud enough to get _that_ loud?! " _THE_ _ **FREAKS**_ _ARE AT IT AGAIN, BOY!_ _ **DEAL WITH IT**_ _!_ "

"Again?!" Harry gasped out in irritation, wincing slightly even as he tentatively returned the device to his ear. "Did you call the others? They should be able to handle it at this point."

" _YES, BUT_ _ **THEY CAN'T EAT FIRE**_ _!_ " Vernon roared back, causing Harry to again flinch away from the phone.

"Alright, alright! We're coming! Just keep your pants on, old man!" Harry yelled back into his phone before hanging up. Turning, he yelled out, "Dudley! Time to leave! We've got another house fire!"

"What?!" Dudley called back from the other side of the beach, surrounded by a crowd of young witches for whom he'd been showing off his muscles and body tone. "Again?! That's the fifth time this year!"

"The _fifth_ time?" Tom couldn't help echoing in surprise.

"Let's just go!" Harry called, shaking his legs slightly to get the blood flowing through them in preparation. "Uncle Vernon sounded _especially_ pissed this time!"

"Right, see you back in London!" Without another word, he suddenly shot upwards into the sky. After reaching maybe five hundred meters, he was suddenly enveloped in his golden aura before he shot southward with such speed that he left a sonic boom in his wake. Harry was just a few seconds behind him, racing off across the landscape with such speed that he left a trail of dust, dirt, and foliage fluttering in his passing.

"What the—?" Nikki said as she hurried over to Tom, looking inquisitively at him. "What happened? Do you know why they just ran off like that?"

"Harry got a call from his uncle," Tom stated, glancing over at the young woman neutrally. Honestly, he was still mostly surprised at yet another impossibility of Muggle technology working in close proximity to Hogwarts. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he continued, "Apparently it was something about 'freaks being at it again' and Harry said something about a 'house fire'…for the _fifth_ time."

"Fifth time?" Nikki's eyes narrowed contemplatively. It took a moment before she linked 'house fire' to 'freaks' and 'again' together. Really, it was only the sheer stupidity of such an act that caused her to initially discard the obvious. But when it clicked, she blinked. "Oh no…They wouldn't do something _that_ stupid…would they?"

"Who would do what?" Tom asked. He already had a strong suspicion, but it would be nice to see if Nikki had the same thought as him.

"Pureblood extremists who have taken offense to the boy's 'revelations' about magic, ki, and chi and are now trying to cow them into submission," Nikki said bluntly, rubbing her head as she groaned out in irritation. "They really have no idea what they're getting themselves into. Stupid bloody fools, the lot of them."

"Indeed," Tom agreed wholeheartedly, nodding. "They will deserve _every bit_ of the pain the Salamander and Saiyan inflict on them."

As he turned away slightly, a small smile spread across his face. While he didn't necessarily have a personal grudge against the boys, this little incident would work well to see just what kind of personalities they had. How would they deal with the situation? And what would they do once they inevitably caught the buffoons responsible? The answers to these questions would only help to solidify how they should be treated and viewed by the Ministry, the Wizarding populace, and himself personally.

Yes, this could prove to be quite illuminating.

* * *

 **The Hangman's Noose  
Ten minutes later…**

Unlike the last time they were gathered in this pub, there was a noticeable air of somber horror about the group.

They had just returned from their attempted terrorism and murderous rampage against those who they had once thought were foolish, uneducated, attention-seeking brats with zero experience in the Wizarding World and its unique and traditional culture and customs. They had expected to find the animals they lived with, curse and torture and play with the mongrels a little bit, maybe leave a few pointed 'messages' somewhere, and return to the pub triumphant while waiting for summons from the Dark Lord to congratulate them on such a cunning and sublime idea to put the two supposed powerhouses unilaterally under his control through fear. They had absolutely no doubt that they'd have nothing to fear from a couple of worthless Muggle animals.

Instead, they had been forced to retreat with their tails between their legs, covered in bruises, bleeding wounds, and scorch marks on both their robes and skin alike. Dereth had what was clearly shaping up to be a massive bruise around a swollen eye and was missing quite a few teeth. Lexis and Norbert had returned missing several pieces of clothing and had substantial burn marks. Tiara was nursing her badly bruised ribs and abdomen from where those freaky energy chains had nearly crushed her when they contracted around her. Marcus himself was trying to heal a badly bleeding sword slash he'd gotten along his shoulder and upper arm. In fact, all of them were trying to heal their wounds but none of them were well-versed in the medical side of magic since they never believed they'd ever get so badly wounded to begin with. That arrogance was now coming back to bite them as they tried and failed to close their wounds and soothe their burns.

"Well, that was…a disaster," Norbert grumbled heatedly, glaring down at the table irritably.

"This is all your fault, Dereth!" Lexis hissed, whether from fury or pain was debatable.

"Oh yeah?! How so?!" Dereth snapped, spitting out yet another mouthful of blood onto the floor next to him as he tried to massage his poor jaw.

"You just _had_ to pick a fight!" Lexis spat. "You just had to go and confront that kid! You couldn't just let me kill the brat! No, you just had to get up into his face, like always!"

"I agree," Tiara wheezed in before Dereth could argue. "You—started all—this…! It's your…your fault!"

"As if you can judge me, you fat bitch!" Dereth growled. "I had everything under control! But then you started shrieking like a banshee the moment the kid moved! You distracted me when I needed to concentrate on fighting and he took advantage of it!"

"Wha-What did…you call me?!" Tiara gasped out as loudly as she could in anger, her wand already pointed towards Dereth as the tip lit up.

"Go ahead!" Dereth growled, jerking to his feet and sending the stool he was seated upon skidding backwards a short distance before falling over. The noise and movement immediately attracted the attention of the other patrons of the pub. They immediately saw that a fight was likely to break out and started discreetly placing bets with one another. However, Dereth, Tiara, and the rest of their group ignored their audience as they all jumped to their feet and drew their wands upon each other, all glaring hatefully at each other. "Just try me, bitch!"

It was a standoff that would've resulted in any number of bad outcomes and Marcus knew it. That was why he was quick to start shuffling discreetly backwards to try and get out of the fight once it started. Sadly, no one would ever know just how that fight would've been resolved. For it was at that very moment that the front door and most of the wall adjacent to it were blown to smithereens in a bright yellow explosion, sending dust, splinters, glass, more than a few unfortunate witches and wizards who were nearby, and debris flying inwards. Cries of surprise and panic erupted through the pub for those short few seconds as the concussive force of the explosion knocked everyone backwards.

Several long moments after the initial blast, everything quieted down as the shell-shocked wizards sought to regain their equilibrium. Crying out in pain, Marcus grabbed at his shoulder as he kicked a broken table off him. Sitting upright, his injured hand swept across the floor, searching frantically for his dropped wand (or any wand for that matter). He wasn't the only one doing so, as the rest of the pub patrons also tried to recover, some with greater success than others.

"Heads up, bastards!" a loud, angry voice called from above. Looking upwards, Marcus found himself freezing in fright and realization. There, floating not ten meters off the ground in a blaze of golden energy, was the nigh-mythical figure of the Saiyan. Dressed in a simple black tanktop and denim shorts, he had one of his arms outstretched towards the destroyed wall, a ball of glowing golden energy alight within his palm.

There was something off about the teen as he floated there, something that Marcus noticed right away. The teen wasn't smiling. All the pictures the Prophet had printed of the cousin of the Boy-Who-Lived had shown how wide and carefree he was when he smiled. It was a smile that didn't belong on the face of a warrior. It spoke of merriment and joy, but most of all it had made him seem naive. As if, despite his great power, he was just some simple kid. It had honestly disgusted Marcus when he'd seen it in the papers. Yet now with his jaw locked in a fierce scowl, icy blue eyes locked upon the group inside, Marcus realized just what a lie and a trick that smile had been.

"My door!" the bartender cried out in horror, aghast expression on his face as he'd managed to climb back to his feet and peered over the bar. " _My_ _ **wall**_ _!_ What's your goddamn problem, you candy-ass basta—?!"

"If you know what's good for your health, you _won't_ finish that sentence, bub," the Saiyan interrupted, holding the energy ball threateningly towards the bartender. But then, as he slowly descended to the ground with a grace that put even the best of brooms to shame, he let the ball dissipate into nothingness as he lowered his arm slowly. The Saiyan kept his attention trained on the recoiling wizards, eyes shifting, scanning, searching… When they landed on Marcus, they stayed and Marcus suddenly knew that _he knew_.

"I don't have _business_ with you. So, if you value what's _left_ of this moldy dung heap you call a pub, you'll keep _quiet_ and _not interfere_ with me and my business." Even though he was clearly still seething in anger, the bartender nodded jerkily and quickly slinked away towards the backroom. But Dudley ignored him as he stared coldly down at Marcus and his group of compatriots.

Before anyone could speak up again, the Saiyan said, "I got yer message, little dark wizards. Loud and clear. Ya think ya can scare me and the Salamander. Make us admit that ya wankers are all-powerful, all-knowing, _untouchable_. Well, allow me to disabuse ya of that _common_ misconception. But first, anyone else who wants ta live should _get the fuck outta here_. If yer gonna _stay_ … _don't_ _get in my way_." His voice was clear and commanding, carrying a familiar hint of finality towards it that Flint had trouble reconciling as coming from a teenager.

"And what if _we_ don't want _you_ here?" some moronic pile of Gryffin-dung with more courage than brains voiced.

"This." Then the Saiyan vanished. He didn't flicker. He didn't shimmer. He didn't even twitch. Nothing hinted at what he was going to do or where he was heading. He simply disappeared from Marcus's sight in a split second's time. The next split second, a loud gurgling, hacking cough erupted from beside him, causing Marcus to reflexively flinch away as he turned to look at the sound. And there he was again. The Saiyan, now standing within arm's reach of the Flint scion, had his arm buried elbow-deep in Dereth's chest and through his back.

The big and burly wizard he was killing just let out gagging gasps as his arms flew up to try and pry the protruding limb out of his chest. But he might as well have been trying to move a mountain for all the good it did him. Jerking his arm out of the man's chest, the Saiyan thrust a glowing palm into Dereth's abdomen. A split second later, a large deafening blast of light, smoke, and gore erupted from where Dereth had been standing. When the conflagration died down a few moments later, there was nothing left of Dereth, excluding some bloody stains and ash. "Anyone who wants ta join this lot on their one-way trip ta Hell is free ta stay."

All of the watching witches and wizards of the pub stared in gawking disbelief and horror at the utter incineration and death that had just taken place. But then Lexis started shrieking, her voice pitching to incredibly high decibels. The shriek sparked movement from everyone else, including the Saiyan. Lethal spells of every variety imaginable started flying through the air. The furious warrior _moved_ , dashing from one threatening person to the next, dealing out death blows to each and every one that turned their wands towards him. He switched at random between incinerating them, decapitating, dismemberment, disemboweling, or even bashing them into shattered heaps against the walls.

Throughout the slaughter, Marcus found himself overcome with fear as he numbly watched it all take place. He loved murder. He relished in it. He loved to explore the different effects the Dark Arts could have on a person. But, for all the death he'd caused since his graduation, he had seen very little actual blood. Most types of magic were bloodless, if used correctly. This had spawned a new way of thinking about killing. That being that there was an _art_ to killing. It was considered by Purebloods and Dark Wizards alike that the bloodier a murder was, the more amateurish (and more Muggle-like) the killer was. And Marcus Flint was _very_ accomplished in this art form. Thus, he had thought that death had long since been desensitized out of him.

But what he was seeing now showed just how incredibly mistaken that perception was. Indeed, what the Saiyan was showing was something that Marcus understood mentally but was still deeply affected by psychologically anyway. The Saiyan was showing that he was a real and true master of killing. That he could kill on a whim with just his finger (as he _just did_ with Tiara!) and no one could possibly stop him, even when they outnumbered him and were working together in a desperate coordinated effort. It was a beautiful sight to behold, but also so very terrifying.

Marcus Flint had _**never**_ felt so terrified of anything in his life!

The whole slaughter lasted less than five minutes, but seemed to be an eternity to the horrified and dazed wizard. But as all things do, it came to an end far too quickly, leaving only the Saiyan standing in the center of a bloodbath and Marcus who was now cowering behind a tipped over table. Off to the side, there was a slight but growing audience of bystanders in the Alley who'd been attracted to all the noise and fighting, now watching with awe and fear alike.

Shivering horribly as he heard the last of the fighters make a gurgling last gasp of life, Marcus cowered ever deeper into his hiding spot, wishing with all his might that he knew even the smallest bit of wandless magic, at least enough to teleport himself to safety.

"I know you're there, _coward_ ," the Saiyan called out. Marcus knew he was talking to him. "And I also know that a _coward_ like you wouldn't have tried to kill my parents and burned down my home _on his own_. No, cowards like you need _direction_. This tells me that you have a _master_. So, I'm _not_ going to kill you. Rather, you're going to _deliver a message_ to him for me."

The table was suddenly shattered and Marcus was wrenched upright, held up by the front of his robes in a grip that made steel seem weak. Staring into the furious eyes of the boy who he had so _**badly**_ underestimated, Marcus quite literally saw his life flash before his eyes as he wet his robes in fear. But rather than kill him, as Marcus instantly feared he would despite what he'd said moments ago, the Saiyan said, "Here's my message and remember it well!"

* * *

 **Malfoy Manor**

The great and terrible Dark Lord Voldemort was finding himself a strange state of annoyance, anger, and amusement. All of these emotions were tied into the groveling form of the young dark wizard who'd forced himself into Malfoy Manor only a few minutes ago. The young man, barely old enough to not be considered a boy anymore, had arrived at the gates of the manor, blasted his way through them, and practically sprinted into the manor proper, screaming for Voldemort's attention. The fact that the young man was using his name was reason enough for Voldemort to personally investigate the happenstance, if for no other reason than to find out why.

The story the lad had to tell was both entertaining, insightful, and infuriating. While most of the story he told was truthful, Voldemort could sense some underlying hidden truths that the boy wasn't sharing. Of course, even without his Legilimency, he was easily able to discern that the Flint boy was trying to get an audience and employment by him, using the burning of the Potter boy's family home as a carrot. ' _Such a small-minded tactic, but still useful for spreading fear_ ,' was his initial thought as he heard that part of the story.

However, the rest of the story and the revelation that there were _more_ wizards of unknown family-lines (or maybe even being Muggleborns) that possessed magic similar to what the Potter boy and the Saiyan were rumored to use had caught Voldemort momentarily by surprise. But after some quick thinking about it some more, he realized that Potter was just as foolish as his parents and most other Gryffindors, _sharing power_ that he should've used _exclusively_ to help him maintain a high position of power among the upper elites of society. Then again, these new wizards were clearly of a lesser stock to the boys, seeing how the Flint boy and his former companions had managed to escape from them. Maybe these new wizards were still students themselves? Regardless, it was clear now that the boys had a power base beyond what had initially been known.

And finally came the part of the story that was especially getting his heckles up. The absolute _gall_ of that boy, the Saiyan, must've had. The _arrogance_! Using this pitiful mess of a dark wizard to send a message to _him!_ As if he, the great and terrible Lord Voldemort, would stoop to using such lowly and worthless tactics as ordering an underling to burn down an empty tower for no gain!

"Tell me that…again," Voldemort said softly, his rage obvious to the Flint boy and the rest of the small group of dark wizards who'd taken up residence in Malfoy Manor recently.

"Y-Yes, master," Flint stuttered fearfully, keeping his head deeply bowed and his posture utterly submissive. "The Saiyan said 'If you have a problem with me, come and say it to my face. Don't leave it to your lackies. And if you attack my family or home again, I will hunt down and kill all of your followers, servants, and slaves. Then, when there's no one left to hide behind like a coward, I will come for you. I will break every bone in your body, rupture and crush all of your organs, and fry your nerves over a low fire. Then, I'll let you heal and recover. And then I'll do it all over again, but slower. And then, finally, when you're begging me for death, I'll blast you to smithereens until there's not even ash left behind to properly bury you.' H-H-His words, not mine, my lord!"

The group of dark wizards around them started very quietly whispering and glancing among themselves. No doubt they were as in awe and disgusted by the Saiyan's ultimatum as Voldemort was reluctantly feeling. ' _If nothing else, the boy's got a vivid imagination when it comes to torture and death_ ,' he acknowledged to himself. ' _And with how…efficiently he handled the fight in the pub, he'd definitely won't shy away from carrying out those threats. Oh, dear boy…You are poking an asp that is seconds away from biting!_ '

As much as he truly desired to give into his rage and send an entire army of dark wizards, creatures, and killers upon the boy, Voldemort kept himself in check. Right now, he needed the boys alive, at least long enough for them to reveal the secrets to their magic. Then, once his next generation of Death Eaters had been trained and shared those same secrets with their parents and himself, _then_ he could kill the boys. So, he would contain his rage but remember the insults.

' _Oh yes, boys, this is one asp you should_ _ **never**_ _have provoked!_ '

* * *

( **Author's Note** ) Sorry about the long wait. I'd started to run out of steam for this story a while back. Combined with my deciding to try and rewrite ' _World Beneath_ ' as well as taking up playing that new game ' **Horizon: Zero Dawn** '. Yeah, my drive for this story was quite low as a result. Hopefully, it'll pick back up soon. I hope all of you enjoyed this chapter.

Originally, this chapter was supposed to include a grand reveal of just who else is out there that share Harry and Dudley's abilities. But certain circumstances prevented us from being able to write it up properly. Hm, maybe we'll include include that scene as a flashback at some point, if you guys wanna see it?

Please review to let us know!


	9. Epic Clash! The Dojo's First Challenger!

**.**

 **The Magic Revolution**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
Co-Authored by: Fiori75  
 _#09: Epic Clash! The Dojo's First Challenger!_

 **July 1, 2015  
** **Sleeping Dragons Dojo  
Ilford, Greater London**

With all the confidence and regality of a warrior-queen, Shimazu Noriko and her small party marched along the sidewalk of the busy London street. Under the protective aura of a misdirection spell to divert the attentions of the Ningen, the proud Ryuchi gazed inquisitively upon the building that stood defiantly before her across the street. Unlike every other Ningen and Junketsu structure she'd seen since coming to this smelly city and land, the building up ahead was like a small sliver of home had been dropped down for her and her retinue.

The building structure was that of a classic Japanese dojo, so authentically reconstructed and modeled after those that she'd seen back in her homeland that it actually caused a momentary pang of homesickness and yearning in her breast. The building was surrounded by a low wooden and rock fence with a simple rock path to the front sliding doors. The majority of the building was made of dark wood, the window shutters a slight shade lighter, with the window glass glazed over to allow light in but no outside surveillance. In the center of the blue tiled roof, there was a small second-story, likely no larger than two rooms, probably an office or bedroom. Overall, the dojo was an amazing mimicry, and Noriko had to silently applaud whoever had been commissioned to build it for they had done a _fantastic_ job of it.

Shoving that irrational longing aside, Noriko held up the business card that that boy had given her a few days prior. Carefully comparing the address of the card to that of the sign that hung from the tori gate that framed the entrance to the dojo's property, Noriko's slight smile broadened. ' _Finally!_ '

" _Wow_ , that looks _just like_ our dojo back home! " Kazuma said, longing thick in his voice as he stared at the building. Glancing back her younger brother, Noriko saw that naked longing in his expression. Indeed, all of her companions shared that same look to a certain degree.

"Seems like forever since we were back there," Otosaki commented.

"And we're so close to finally finishing this mission too!" Azuma said, sharing a grin with Ichiro.

"Let's not dilly-dally then," Kesshomaru said pointedly, her eyes gleaming with joy and anticipation.

Forcing down her annoyance at Kesshomaru once again stating what she'd been second's away from saying, Noriko nodded. Without hesitation, she started marching across the street towards the dojo. She only spared a split second to snap out a single word. "Come!"

As she was passing through the tori gate, Noriko felt the faintest trickle of magic wash over her. She paused, hand clenching tightly around the Namikiri's hilt out of reflex. With her senses, she reached out, trying to understand the importance of the barrier that she'd just passed through. However, the magic was so faint, almost wispy like smoke, that she couldn't quite get a lock on it. ' _Perhaps some kind of detection barrier so he knows when someone enters the property?_ ' But after only a split second of hesitation, Noriko refocused on her goal and continued walking up the short path to the main entrance

As the path between the Tori and the shoji grew shorter with each step, she could not help but find her eyes drifting to the plaque standing idly to her right. It's scrolling calligraphy reading the same as the name as that handed to her by the Gaijin's companion. Seeing that, combined with the sight of the dojo, nearly brought her up short. It was clear to her that the fool was setting down roots, especially considering just how prevalent his scent was clinging to the area.

That would make things... difficult. Especially with how irrational some Ryuchi could be about their territories.

She was here to drag him home, preferably after she had earned her revenge and beaten him black and blue. Before it had been assumed that he would settle down once among his own kin and might even be persuaded to cease his troublesome wanderings. In fact, the plan had even called for him to be a wanderer who sought the deliverance of righteous vengeance and subsequent kidnapping. Stray dragons like that were far easier to deal with than those who had a home to fight to return to. Some such strays even followed after the ones who'd beaten them in such battles of their own volition, such as Otosaki's father who'd married her aunt after she had nearly murdered the poor man over a misunderstanding.

Not that Noriko had any intention of repeating her aunt's actions after she defeated her own particular stray. Not with such an insufferable fool such as that Gaijin.

Now however he would fight her all the harder, simply to cling to this one place he'd carved out for himself. And while she could respect that drive, it made her job all the harder. Luckily that same sign that spelled out all her troubles, was also the source of the simplest solution. All she had to do was win the match against him, and return home with that plaque under her arms, and he would follow her to the ends of the earth to retrieve it. That gave her the advantage.

"Ichiya, the sign," she ordered as she removed her sandals on pure instinct before stepping up off the path and onto the freshly cleaned wood that separated the dojo proper from the rest of the world.

"Ho, is our little Nori-hime indulging in a bit of dojo storming? Does this mean you've ended your war on fun?" Ichiya teases even as he plucked the sign from the ground.

Before Noriko could admonish her lug of a cousin, she once more felt a burst of magic washed over her, this one far more potent than the pulse by the tori. The feelings and intent of the ward reminding her of a similar ward her family had placed upon their own sign, giving her a much better idea of what it meant. ' _If the ward at the gate was to alert him of visitors, and considering that this one didn't go off until the sign was moved, it's safe to assume he knows just why we are here now. Good, that should hurry him along nicely._ '

Throwing open the doors to the dojo, Noriko took in the new surroundings in an instant. The scent hitting her first, the overpowering scent of a dragon within these walls was far more powerful than the scent hovering about outside. That meant one of two things: her target was either here, or had been very recently. Sight was next as Noriko took in the entry way, where she and her group now stood, which flowed into a hallway with marked restrooms on either side of it. Beyond that, there was a small ramp that led down into the dojo chamber itself. Yet what really drew her attention was the large group of teenagers milling around in the dojo proper. Many of whom were garbed in the attire common to the European Junketsu, though a fair few were also garbed in the clothes of the Ningen.

Despite herself, Noriko couldn't help but grimace at the gathering of teens even as she marched towards them. Yet another complication to her plans. The implication that such a large gathering of Junketsu and Ningen no Chi within a Ryuchi's dojo, especially this particular Ryuchi, were plainly evident to her. That insufferable fool wasn't just setting up a home for himself, the Gaijin was starting his own clan of Ketsuen-sha. Thankfully, not a single one of them bore the fragrance of anything...unique, yet. They were all as human as the Ningen outside, which made her task just the _tiniest_ bit easier.

Her entry into the dojo was noticed quite quickly, earning her and her retinue more than a few stares. To their credit, a lot of the stares were of simple curiosity for who they were and what they were doing here. Their foreign garb, exposed but sheathed weapons, and distinctly Asian features immediately set them apart from the natives. However, as had become typical in recent years, Noriko found herself on the receiving end of more than few lecherous gazes. With long, vibrant black hair, sharp and piercing eyes as golden as those found on a dragon, and a naturally bountiful figure that even beauty models would be envious of, Noriko had forced herself to become reluctantly accustomed to being the center of attention when in a crowd.

Noriko closed her eyes for but a moment, collected her thoughts as quickly as she could, parsing through the relevant data she could glean from this gathering. And then with a patience born of practice, promptly ignored the stares directed at her. Instead, she turned her attention to gazing around the dojo, searching for where her prey was hiding himself. To her slight annoyance, she couldn't find him anywhere within the crowd or the dojo. But, nestled up against the wall behind the entrance ramp that she'd just descended, Noriko glimpsed a small set of stairs leading upwards.

' _Perhaps that's where he's hiding? If so, I'll just have to draw him out._ ' She thought to herself. Yet even as her thoughts focused upon her target, and the satisfaction she would take upon his beaten body, another saw fit to drag her from her thoughts.

"And just who are you?" a young but rather conceited-sounding voice asked in English.

Looking back at the Fool's potential clanmate, Noriko frowned at the Junkestu who approached her. He was close to her own age and was admittedly good-looking for a gaijin-Junketsu. He had regal features, platinum-blonde hair, sharp blue eyes, and a strong jawline. He wore the Junketsu's black robes that bore stripes of vibrant green and reflective silver. Though he was rather tall for his age, he was also quite lean with little to no apparent muscle mass that Noriko could see. And, unlike many European Junketsu, Noriko couldn't see one of their beloved but feeble little magic sticks anywhere on his body, not even a wrist holster that had become a modern favorite among the upper class. What stood out about him however was the retinue at his back, half a dozen Junketsu followed after him, all garbed in his colors, and all bearing the same Clan symbol on their garb. A simple snake rearing its head in triumph.

She took all of that in within a split-second before returning her attention to his face, which bore a rather distasteful sneer that matched his earlier tone. Without even having to properly meet this boy, Noriko could already tell that he thought himself her superior in every way, despite knowing nothing about her. A typical attitude among western Junketsu nowadays.

"I asked you a question!" he barked imperiously, his eyes narrowing.

"Where I am from, it is common courtesy to introduce one's self before demanding another's intentions or name," Noriko stated stoically, in perfect English, while hiding her rising contempt of this boy with ease.

"Oh, and why should I give my name to someone who won't even give me the courtesy of their own name?" the boy demanded in obvious contempt. It was a surprise that was echoed among his followers as well. All he received from her retinue were stares of contempt, exceeding even her own distaste. Yet, for all the ill-intent her family bore him for the crime of drawing the same air as she, the foolish Junkestu prattled on. "But if you lack even the common manners to give your own name first, I suppose it's up to me to show you how manners actually operate here, I am Draco Malfoy. Now, who are you? And…why does your servant have the building sign?"

The second question held far less derision and much more confusion. Noriko lifted an eyebrow at his ignorance of the sign's importance. _'Perhaps they don't have that same practice here?_ ' It was the only explanation she could come up with, for his dismissal of such an integral part of his clan head's dojo. But even then, it still didn't seem quite right. If that was the case, why did her Fool have that alarm ward set on the sign in the first place?

"I am Shimazu Noriko," she stated, choosing to ignore her personal questions for now as she inclined her body into a partial bow of greeting, as was polite. Straightening up, she continued, "I've come with a challenge. This dojo will bow to me, and its sign shall be mine when I defeat its Dragon." It was a statement of intent she gave to the Junketsu, one that she felt would transcend mere cultural differences and convey just how serious her challenge was.

"Dragon?" the boy, Draco, repeated, once again confused. But then he quickly recollected himself, crossing his arms as he drew himself up into an attempted intimidating stance. "Well, you have come to the right place." he stated as he crossed his arms, "I am named for a dragon. As a student of this school, I'll accept your challenge!"

Behind her, several of Noriko's companions started snickering at the blonde. If she was any less controlled than she was, Noriko felt she might well have joined them. Even without crossing blades with this fop, she could see that he was as spoiled as any other Junketsu, bloated on his own over-indulgent self-worth. People like these were often the easiest to beat since they were all talk.

"Very well," Noriko said simply as her hand settled upon the Namikiri's hilt. He had accepted the challenge, thus the blood that would soon stain his robes was all on him. In a flash, she'd drawn her blade upon him, a classic Battōjutsu strike towards her new opponent's chest and crossed arms. To his credit, not that there was much to give, he managed to react with impressive speed as he recoiled away from Noriko upon seeing her grasping her sword a split-second earlier. But that didn't save his black robe from getting several slashes through the sleeves where the blade had sliced through them.

"Wh-Wh-What are you trying to do?!" Draco yelled, eyes wide as he and his compatriots, even the rest of the other Junketsu, started backing away from her. "Are you trying to kill me?!"

But Noriko didn't answer. Instead, she was glaring at him as a frown started crossing her lovely face. This boy, according to her translation charm, was named for her ancestors? Was this the best the Junketsu could do?! Grasping the Namikiri in both hands, she focused her magic into the blade, causing a vibrant fire to spring to life across the blade edge. Holding the katana out, she pointed towards the blonde as the fire surged and launched itself forward towards him. The blonde and all of the others who were in the fireball's path frantically struggled to throw themselves away from the magic attack. The fireball struck the far wall and exploded with a loud bang and a powerful enough shockwave to knock those closest to it off their feet. The fire would've quickly spread through the wood and carpeting, but Noriko quickly willed the fire to dissipate.

As the blonde tried to regain his footing, Noriko decided ruthlessness was the best path to victory. She was fast to launch another fireball from her blade. Turning to yell at her again, the blonde fop saw the fireball approaching too late and could only raise his arms protectively in front of his face in defense as the fireball exploded. This time, the explosion knocked him flying several meters before he crashed into two other bystanders who hadn't been able to dodge fast enough.

Lowering the Namikiri, Noriko's frown was quite prominent on her face as she watched the charred and beaten boy struggle to climb back to his feet. "That was _very_ disappointing. You are a disciple of this dojo? Have you not learned _anything_ here?"

"Of course we haven't yet!" a girl with brown and extremely bushy hair said loudly, turning to glare at Noriko heatedly. "Today was supposed to be our _first day!_ We haven't even had our first lessons yet! What is all this even about?!" the Ningen all but growled at her. Yet even as Noriko prepared to lambast the commoner who dared to interfere, the blond Junketsu who dared claim the slimmest connection to her family spoke up first.

"Shut up, Granger! Nobody asked your opinion!" the blonde boy yelled as he finally climbed to his feet, his face wrought with equal parts pain and rage as he glared between Noriko and the newly-named Granger girl. After a moment, he settled his glare on Noriko. "I guess we'll just have to teach this foreign bitch what happens when you mess with Purebloods!"

Noriko's disgust started rising incredibly high as she watched the so-called 'dragon' start summoning three henchmen to help him fight against her. Her disgust was quick to turn to anger, which she then channeled into her fire. All along her katana blade, the heat and flames danced and grew. Noriko's rage and passion feeding into the blade she had personally carried with the intent of cremating a certain Fool. Yet even with the rage she felt toward him, that some stupid fool dared to try and find courage whilst a war and storm god watched after her home? It was nigh but impossible for anyone else to do it, as she brought her katana to the side in preparation for a wide swing. "You call yourself a _dragon? You are_ _ **no dragon!**_ "

As she was swinging her katana, a new presence suddenly appeared within arm's length of her. Noriko could do nothing but glare in surprised anger as her fire-wreathed ancestral blade struck a blade that seemed to be made of bright blue light. The new sword disrupted her swing and caused what would've been a sweeping arc of fire to pulse and recoil hotly before fizzling out. Once it did, Noriko found herself staring face to face with a new boy. And not just any boy, but one who held a faint fragrance of dragon upon him, just like that boy she'd met a few days ago.

"That's enough!" the boy barked hotly, glaring steadfastly into Noriko's heated face.

Noriko quickly jumped back, keeping her body twisted slightly away as she held her sword before her and her opponent. The boy let her go, maintaining his position as he swept his blade of light to the side in a show of either great confidence or incredible arrogance.

"Hey there, pretty lady!" came a somewhat familiar voice from behind her. Noriko glanced behind herself, only to blink and stare in dismay at what she saw.

Each of her companions had found themselves incapacitated and captured in some way by the three boys who now stood among them, having somehow snuck upon them with none of them noticing. Of the three boys, she recognized one as their guide 'Mal' who'd shown her the way to this dojo. Another was a dark-haired mass of pure and solid muscle that only _slightly_ resembled a human being. Both of these two stood beside her cousins and brother as the duo calmly held her family in one-armed chokeholds, which also conveniently prevented any of them from drawing their own weapons in defense. The third boy had managed to tightly bind up Kesshomaru, Tsuchiya, and Tsukiko in a series of blue energy chains that were quite similar the first boy's reiken energy sword.

"I _told you_ that the others wouldn't be happy about your grudge!" Mal chirped, grinning cheekily at her.

"…So you did," Noriko admitted unhappily. _'Perhaps I should've taken his advice more seriously_.' "Can you and your friends release my companions?"

"We're just making sure none of them will interfere in the fight," the red-haired boy with the energy chains stated. He was very tall but thin like a reed, which only made his ability to bind three of her retinue all the more impressive. "Most of them looked ready to jump in when Piers interrupted your one-sided beat down."

"But if they agree to calm down and take their hands off their weapons, I don't see why we can't," the walking tank of a man spoke with a soft and gentle voice, one completely at odds with his large and intimidating build, and shared a significant look with her family. The message quietly passed between them as one by one, hands relaxed from their grips on their blades.

"Now, why are you attacking our students?!" the sword boy demanded. "And who are you?"

Turning back to him, she replied coldly, "I am Shimazu Noriko of the Shimazu Clan. And it should be fairly obvious why I'm here. Your sign will be a trophy to warm my heart at the memories of defeating a certain idiot."

The sword boy, all of the newcomers in point of fact, grinned in response to her statement. But it was the sword boy who spoke up first. "Heheheh, Monkey-Boy and Lizard-Breath are gonna _pissed_ that they missed a challenger like you, luv. But I have to ask that you _don't_ break our students before _we_ get the chance to. Besides, this guy's not really qualified to represent our dojo in fight like this. Not yet, at least."

Noriko raised her eyebrow pointedly at that. "And who are you?"

"You can call me Piers, a disciple of the Saiyan!" Piers declared as he twirled his reiken about in a flashy bout of showmanship to accentuate just _what_ that implied. "So, you want the dojo's sign? First, you have to _prove_ that you _deserve it!_ "

Like lightning, he shot forward with his reiken already in motion. Reflexes and instinct were what spurred Noriko into raising the Namikiri into a defensive overhead block. It was all she had time to do since if she'd hesitated for even an instant, Piers would've struck her full-on. Yet even with her instinctive block, the strength behind that overhead chop sent vibrations down her arms, caused a brief explosion of sound due to the displaced air, and almost caused her knees to buckle under the pressure, as the floor beneath her cracked and cratered _'S-So_ _ **strong**_ _! And_ _ **fast**_ _!_ '

Jumping backwards, Noriko kept her sword up and it was good thing she did. Piers did not relent, thrusting and jabbing at her with incredible speeds. Noriko twisted, dodged, and deflected his blows as best she could. But more than a few of the strikes managed to sneak through her guard, leaving little holes and tears in her yukata and burning grazes across her skin. Scowling, Noriko let loose a burst of fire from her katana. The momentary flare sparked a second's surprise from Piers that Noriko capitalized on by smacking his reiken away, which just further motivated him to back away some more. Regaining a strong stance, Noriko rushed forward herself, jabbing the Namikiri at him in a burst of her own incredible speed. But Piers had recovered from his surprise quickly and just continued to back away, now deflecting all of her attacks with a cool grin on his face.

Seeing that confident grin on her opponent's face stoked Noriko's temper. _'He's not taking me seriously!_ ' In another burst of speed, she lunged forward, aiming to impale him. He just continued to move away from her, his expression never changing as her sword tip drew steadily nearer. Just as she was about to touch his shirt, his reiken flashed up and knocked her thrust aside. Noriko bounced away from him as her eyes widened in surprise before they hardened once again.

She came back at him almost immediately, her katana no longer a blur of speed but now packing far more powerful and strength. Piers held his ground now, meeting and deflecting her strikes with almost mocking ease and confidence. Suddenly, seeing his opponent had gotten lost in her attack sequences, he struck with a rising slash across her abdomen. To her credit, Noriko reacted almost immediately and deftly backflipped a few paces away from him. Breathing hard, she glanced down at her front, seeing a telltale tear across the front of her chest where she'd just barely managed to dodge.

Noriko found herself momentarily surprised as she realized just how heavily she was panting. _'What? Why am I breathing so hard already? I've been training myself every day for the past six years to be the best. Yes, he may be extremely fast and strong, probably the strongest opponent I've ever faced until now. But why am I getting so tired so quickly?_ '

Off to the side, the various Junketsu of the dojo were all gawking in surprise, astonishment, and confusion. None of them knew who any of the new boys were. But after seeing the obvious traits of large muscles and bizarre energy weapons, most of them could guess fairly easily that they were all students of the Saiyan and Salamander somehow. But not only that, all of them were staring with awe at Piers. Not because this was the first time they'd seen anyone be able to move so fast and with such power behind their blows that they caused small explosions of displaced air, but that he was someone who wasn't already one of the Twin Calamities. It was a display that wiped away any speculation about the nature of their strength. Removing those last few doubts that their power could be explained by their shared blood and not their extreme training. But where Piers and the others might have viable explanations for their strength, the fact that a foreigner was also able to partially keep up without seemingly receiving the same training? It was extremely humbling, yet equally motivating.

' _Remarkable_ ,' Noriko thought in contemplation, eyeing her foe's cool posture and stance. _'Truly remarkable. I'm going almost all-out and he looks like he's just playing with me! His swordsmanship is amateurish and his attack sequences are full of holes. He's clearly just started his training as a swordsman and yet for all that my skill trumps his, I might as well be moving through water compared to him. What kind of training did he undergo that could possibly compensate so much for such a sloppy fighting style?_ '

As if reading her mind, Piers sent her a slightly wider grin. That cocky attitude cut down her analytical mind and sent a bolt of anger through her. Closing her eyes, she took a long, slow breath. Turning her stance and hefting the Namikiri up into a high thrusting ready stance, Noriko opened her eyes and gave Piers a cold glare. It was a look that he clearly recognized as saying ' _no more playing around_ ' and his own guard lifted ever so slightly in preparation.

For a long moment, the both of them just stood there, eyeing each other up. Then, they bolted forward and clashed. The force of their sword strikes sent a ringing explosion through the dojo that knocked most of the bystanders off their feet. But neither combatant paid any attention to that as they continued their duel, slashing, hacking, ducking, dodging, thrusting, cutting, always dancing forward, backward, or to the sides, never staying in one place for more than a single strike's worth of time.

Grunting in exertion and annoyance, Noriko sent flames through the Namikiri to help amplify the power of her attacks. With one particularly powerful swing, she let loose a battlecry as fire surged forward to engulf Piers in an explosion. However, Piers caught the blade on his reiken and angled her katana high, causing the fire to blast off over his shoulder and behind him, impacting powerfully against the dojo's wall and ceiling. Noriko immediately backed away, but Piers followed hotly with his reiken glowing extra brightly as he built up the power of his own strike. Seeing his thrust, Noriko jumped into the air while deflecting his strike downwards, a burst of blue-white energy shot down the length of his reiken and struck the ground somewhat behind her, blowing out a huge hole in the floor and causing a large dust cloud. Riding the shockwave of the explosion, Noriko twirled around in the air before landing on her feet and rushing for Piers' back.

Piers spun around with supernatural speed and a wide grin, catching her fiery slash on his blade before once again deflecting it over his head. The arc of fire struck yet more of the dojo's ceiling in an explosive impact. _'He saw through my Double Fire Arc Attack?!_ ' Piers' reiken began glowing ominously again as he drew it back for a powerful thrust. Seeing his intention, Noriko snarled as white-hot fires burst to life from her sword again. _'No way! I_ _ **WON'T**_ _LOSE!_ ' The impact of her Fire Burst Strike against his Power Pulse caused an even larger and more powerful explosion to rock through the dojo, cracking the enchanted glass of the windows and sending massive shockwaves that slammed all of the bystanders into the walls. It even sent Piers and Noriko skidding away from each other a few paces.

By now, Noriko's stamina was well and truly failing her. She stood before her foe, panting heavily as sweat dripped down her brow. Even the familiar weight of Namikiri was beginning to slowly pull her exhausted arms downwards. Yet for all of that, Piers was only now starting to draw short of breath. His reiken dimming slightly as he idly snuffed out the small flames licking at the edges of his clothes. But between the two of them, he was definitely far less worn out than she was, as evident by that damnable smirk still on his face.

"Hahahahah!" Piers' soft chuckles quickly drew Noriko's attention from her own thoughts and refocused it on him. "You're pretty damn good, Ryuu-chan. Especially for someone who hasn't gotten any of our advanced training. I bet you could've trounced this whole group by yourself if you'd wanted to."

"Is that supposed to…flatter me, Piers-san?" Noriko asked as she panted, her eyes narrowing. It wouldn't have been the first time one of her opponents tried to distract her by giving her compliments of her ability, though few would dare follow up such with such a disrespectful nickname if that had been his intent.

"Oh no, far from it," Piers said, grinning. "Just that I think you could go _very far_ if you _did_ receive the training."

The implied insult that she'd never reach her full potential without their 'assistance' was not lost on Noriko. Grinding her teeth dangerously as a furious scowl crossed her lips, she glared angrily at Piers for a moment. Fire immediately sprung to life along the Namikiri's length, it's heat and intensity far greater than it had been earlier. "That is an insult that shall _not_ go unpunished."

With a cry, she rushed forward as she raised her katana for an overhead strike. Piers just grinned again as his reiken regained its original brightness and he moved forward to meet her. But just as they were about to meet, a large figure appeared between them, catching both their blades in his bare hands. But where Piers' reiken shattered and vanished, Noriko's Namikiri was yanked from her grasp and an elbow buried itself in her gut before she could properly react. The blow was like being kicked by a horse and sent Noriko crumpling to the ground heaving with Namikiri clattering down next to her as the stranger discarded it.

"That's enough!" a new voice barked angrily.

" _Hey_ , why'd you interfere, Dud?!" Piers complained as he straightened himself. "We were just getting to the _good part!_ "

"Because, in case you didn't notice," the muscular blonde said in a faux-calm voice. " _ **OUR DOJO'S ON FIRE!**_ "

Piers merely stopped and blinked, noting that, _yes_ , the building was in fact on fire. It also had a rather spectacular hole in the floor where his own attack had been deflected downwards, along with a plethora of craters and furrows in the once pristine floor. When one factored in the crowd of panicking teens doing nothing helpful at all, Piers was left with only one surreal conclusion to the whole thing.

"Wooow, so _this_ is what it's like being you," he breathed in shock. "…Huh."

But even as he said that, the flames were being drawn down and away from the burning building. Sucked down into the throat of the dark-haired Salamander. Once done and wiping his mouth, Harry sent Piers a slight grin. "You guys were getting a bit too carried away."

"Sorry, but she was a lot of fun to fight." Piers said, sounding almost sheepish. A very sharp contrast from the cocky fighter Noriko had been struggling against.

"I'll bet," the Salamander smirked as he eyed her slowly recovering form up and down, "Strong _and_ sexy. Is that why you were trying to cut her clothes off?"

Even as her target's words caused her foe to sputter and try and deny the accusations, Noriko took the time to realize that, yes, her clothing was practically falling off of her in tatters. It was only by virtue of a tattered obi that her entire ensemble did not blow away from her figure and scatter to the winds. And that her query had decided to inform her of this fact by leering at her only increased the anger she felt.

" _You!_ " She growled in anger as white-hot flames _**exploded**_ along the length of Namikiri as she glared with every ounce of hate and rage she could muster to fortify herself for what was to come next. Even as exhausted as she was, even with how far she was shown that she still had to go, with that fool of a Gaijin standing there carefree as he drank in her partially-exposed form was too much for her.

"Wait, me or Piers? Cause you're glaring at me, but he's the one who tried to strip you." That her foe was so blasé about the entire matter only stoked the fires of her rage to heights greater than even Kazuma could manage when he was actively trying to annoy her.

"His punishment will come later. Right now, you and I have business to settle!" Noriko seethed at him, willing him to burn with merely her words. That the fool of a Gaijin only blinked at her in befuddlement did not go unnoticed, and his next words were almost enough to make her stop breathing.

"Business to settle…? Have we met before?"

Noriko could only stare at him, her anger and the fires of Namikiri sputtering and dying at his question as she tried desperately to process just what he could have meant by that. Surely, he hadn't forgotten! How could anyone forget the circumstances of their meeting when they had been as surreal as theirs? It had been _seared_ into her memories as the single most embarrassing day of her life! And he had the gall to pretend they had never met? No, she had to have misheard him because there was no way that he could—

"Wait, wait, wait, I remember you now! Tsubasa-san, right? Man, it's been—What? —Two years? How're your sisters?" The unforgivable and vile fool smiled as he smacked his fist into his palm in seeming recollection. It was at that point that her rage reached completely past blinding and rolled all the way back around into a state that only vaguely resembled tranquility. With a smile on her face and a tight grip on her blade, she looked at the soon-to-be cooling corpse of her hated foe.

"Please die now," she all but sang, the air screaming as the Namikiri ignited it from pure friction when she swung it at his neck.

Just as her blade was nearing his neck and victory at last felt within her grasp, her sword, arms, and body came to a screeching halt. She never even seen his hand move. One moment, it was hanging relaxed next to his side. The next, it was up across his body, fingers clenching tightly upon the flat of the fire-coated blade. As much as that brought her up short, so too did watching him pucker his lips slightly and suck in all of the flames burning upon the Namikiri.

Wrenching her blade free, Noriko began a series of simple slashes and jabs, as fast as her exhausted but rage-fueled body could move her. Her target just continued to smile in that disarming but cocky way that was strikingly similar to his companion's grin as he dodged her with obvious ease and unbelievable speed.

"Okay, so you're clearly not Tsubasa-san," he was saying, his casual nonchalance showing clearly just how seriously he was taking her. "She was only maybe a quarter as strong as you are."

Noriko didn't spare him another word as Namikiri reignited and she launched a fireball pointblank at him. Impossibly, he caught it in his bare hand and then held up to start taking idle bites from it as though it were apple or some sort of treat. "You know, this has got to be some of the best-tasting fire I've ever had. The only thing better is actual dragon fire. Does your family have some kind of affinity with fire or dragons or something?"

"Harry?! She's _clearly_ trying to _kill_ you!" one of the Junketsu bystanders with a Russian accent shouted from where they were still largely stuck to the wall from earlier. "How can you take this so _lightly?!_ "

"Honestly?" Harry asked, as he bounced lightly away from the furiously slashing Japanese girl with his hands in his pockets. "I'm more surprised that she's trying to kill me _today_ , and not _yesterday_. Tuesdays seem to be the days when random people try to kill me."

"Are you _serious?_ " one of the others asked, disbelief clear in his voice.

"Of course he's serious," the massively muscular boy, Dennis, answered lightly. "The only times he's not is when… Uh… Okay, he's never serious about anything."

"Oi! I heard that!" Harry bellowed childishly, turning to glare at Dennis. Seeing an opening, Noriko immediately struck, only for her rage to heighten yet more as he used one hand to idly deflect her renewed attacks at his turned back. "And for future reference, I can be _very_ serious when in a fight!"

"Really?" Tom asked in a deadpan voice as he finally peeled himself out of the imprint he'd made in the wall and dropped to the ground. Looking up, he gave Harry another deadpan stare with a raised eyebrow.

"She's running on fumes," Harry pointed out, catching and holding Namikiri to prove his point as she tried and failed to pull it from his grasp.

As Harry released the blade and turned back to his wannabe-executioner, Tom had to shake his head in disbelief at the overwhelming weirdness of the situation. Although Harry and Dudley had stated time and time again that their skills could be passed on to anyone, even Muggles, everything they'd just seen was still a slap to the face for him and many of the other Purebloods in the room. Even though he'd eagerly signed up for the chance to learn from them, in the back of his mind Tom still considered the possibility of such things to be impossible. Harry's mere existence was already a miracle of magic for surviving the Killing Curse, the ultimate spell of all Death Magic there was.

And Dudley was his family, related by blood. It just made sense that, even if he didn't possess magic of his own, he could still live an incredible existence simply because of the demonstrated example his cousin constantly exuded by simply living. But now, having both seen and felt the truth of their words, that their skills _could_ be passed on to others who had no blood relation to them…? It was sending excited shivers down his spine at the realization that he might actually have struck gold for real.

"—so can you please tell me what's wrong?" Harry was saying to the enraged lady as she finally collapsed to her knees in sheer exhaustion, the Namikiri falling limply from her numbed fingers. Seeing her no longer actively trying to kill him, Harry moved forward and bowed down to look more closely at her sweat-drenched and reddened face, confusion plainly visible on his face. "I can't remember you if you don't tell what happened, after all."

"…Fine!" she snapped out, raising her face to glare passionately into his confused expression. "FINE! IF YOU REALLY CAN'T REMEMBER, IT WAS ALMOST FOUR YEARS AGO! YOU KIDNAPPED ME WHEN I WAS WALKING HOME—"

"You'll have to be more _specific_ than that," Dudley chirped from where he was standing off to the side, grinning somewhat impishly as she shot him a heated glare of his own. "The Lizard-Brain has a tendency to make off with princesses when there's trouble abound."

"I'm not _that_ bad, Dudley," Harry shot back, standing back upright and glaring at his cousin. "That's only happened, like…six times."

"Singapore."

"Okay, seven times," Harry corrected blandly.

"You really cannot remember?!" Noriko demanded, her expression torn between righteous fury and uncomprehending confusion. "How could you not?! You fell on me from somewhere up high, then grabbed me and started running across the rooftops!"

"Uh…You're going to have to be _even more_ _specific_ than that," Harry said, scratching the back of his head as a sheepish grin spread across his face. "That happens to me more often than you'd think."

"Wha…More often…? HOW MANY LITTLE GIRLS HAVE YOU RUN OFF WITH?!" Noriko sputtered out.

"Wow, when she puts it like that, it makes you seem like a real pedophile _and_ a pervert, Salamander," Gordon, the tall redhead with the ki-chains, said with a devilish grin. That comment brought a round of grins and raucous laughter from all of his friends and even a few from the recovering Junketsu students.

"Hm…" Harry hummed as he gave Noriko a critical gaze, as he clearly was trying to remember the circumstances she'd been describing. But then, as he was gazing into her golden eyes…those eyes…eyes of a dragon… It suddenly clicked!

"Wait a sec!" Harry cried out, smacking his palm in triumph. "Now I remember! Yeah! I ran into you after our big debut at the World Tournament! Yeah! A bunch of magical samurai showed up and started attacking us, drawing their swords and everything, so me and Dud bolted out there as fast as we could! Next thing I know after we'd split up, I'm bowling into some girl. And, like the gentleman I am, I tried to make sure she didn't hit the ground too hard. Unfortunately, that was when her yojimbo started drawing _their_ swords, and with a bunch of samurai already behind me, I did the only thing I could and went up... But I kinda-maybe-sorta forgot I was still holding onto her, she didn't weigh much more than a feather. I didn't even really notice until she started trying to set me on fire and bash my brains in, so I dropped her on a roof, got yelled at, and then ran off after she finished yelling."

Disbelieving silence hung heavy in the air as everyone took in just what he'd said.

"So, you were running from the law again and basically kidnapped someone off the street because you knocked them over?" Cedric asked in a deadpan voice.

"Yup, pretty much," Harry said bluntly. Seeing the gawking faces of his audience, he flushed in embarrassment as he barked out, "It was the first time I'd ever run from the cops before! I was a little freaked out, okay! And I didn't even know about the Wizarding World at that point! And to an eleven-year-old kid, a bunch of samurai attacking you with swords is pretty fucking scary! What did you expect me to do?" It started quietly, but soon rapturous laughter started tearing through each of the Junketsu, and even Noriko's family, at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

Turning an evaluating eye on her, Harry blinked somewhat before he now stared dumbfounded at the young woman who was slowly recovering her breath at his feet. "Wait a second. Are you _seriously_ that girl I bumped into? Aside from the hair and eyes, you look _nothing_ like you used to! I mean, you got… _big_. What _happened_ to you?!"

" _I grew up_ ," she spat out furiously, her face now flushing hotly for reasons she refused to contemplate. ' _Even if I fought him when I was fresh, I don't think I could've beaten him. Dammit…This calls for a change of tactics_.' Grasping Namikiri, she slowly pushed herself back to her feet and assumed as regal a stance as she could before she slowly sheathed her katana with a resounding _click_. Despite herself, Noriko couldn't help letting out a small sigh of relief. ' _At least the fool didn't mention the_ _ **whole**_ _story of what took place on that rooftop_.'

"You know, Harry," the Saiyan suddenly commented loudly. "I just remembered something. Is she—" he pointed almost accusingly at Noriko. "—the reason we found you covered in soot and _naked_ in the middle of Tokyo?" That comment sure brought a screeching halt to all other conversations and Noriko felt dread rapidly rise as she caught sight of her target's answering expression.

"Yeah, but I got even," he sent an utterly, insufferably unrepentant grin directed towards her when he said that.

"Oh?"

"Well, there was a small 'eye for an eye' part I might've left out," he explained, maybe purposely being vague about the details, but Noriko couldn't guess why. "Plus, I don't think she could roof-jump. How did you get down from there anyway?"

"Wait," the curly brown-haired Junketsu girl from earlier said, a look of dawning horror spreading across her face as she glanced between the sheepish but unrepentant Harry and the coldly stoic Noriko. Noriko felt she could almost literally see the moment the comprehension hit her as her face lit up a red lightbulb. But it was rapidly replaced by righteous feminine anger as she turned to glare at Harry. "You _left_ a preteen girl _naked_ _and alone_ on a roof in the _middle of one of the_ _ **biggest**_ _ **cities**_ _in the_ _ **world**_ _?_ _ **What is**_ _ **wrong**_ _ **with you!?**_ "

"Hey, to be fair, she burned me first." Yup, he was not the _least_ bit apologetic for his terrible deed.

This time, it wasn't just Noriko who was sending Harry a furious glare. It was every single female in the dojo, whether foreign, native, Pureblood, or Muggleborn. All of them had rage-filled glares and snarls directed solely upon the Salamander, who just smiled serenely at the negative attention he was given.

* * *

 **Sleeping Dragons Dojo, upstairs**

"So, what's your story?" Harry asked from where he was seated on one of the floor cushions in the room, which seemed to serve as an office. Much to the surprise of Noriko and her retinue, he had spoken in the language of their homeland, perhaps a little accented with English but it was certainly quite good for a gaijin. "Why are you so hellbent on finding and fighting me? I mean, I figured you'd be steamed over what happened, but this seems a bit much just for that."

Noriko let loose an offended huff from her customary seat at the head and the center of her retinue. Beside her, Kazuma was eagerly sipping at the cup of tea that their host had provided for them shortly after he'd escorted them upstairs for a private discussion. Downstairs, Piers was happily busy replacing the sign back in its original spot while the Saiyan was directing Kesshomaru and Ichiro as they repaired the damages to the dojo that Noriko had unintentionally caused during the scuffle.

Trying to reign in her compulsive desire to burn the fool, Noriko took just a moment to sip at the tea to try and collect herself, and had to blink slightly at the rather pleasant taste it had. Setting her cup down, she gave her target a calculating look before finally answering in her native tongue. "I was originally and officially sent by the Shimazu clan head to find and escort you back to Japan and to meet with our elders. They believe that you may know, or have found someone who knows, a certain recipe of extreme social importance to our clan and country as a whole."

"Er? Okay?" Harry said, looking somewhat lost, though not because of a lack of understanding the language. "Could you be more specific? I've come across a lot of weird and fantastic stuff in my travels. But if this is about the notes I sto-er _borrowed_ from Old Nicky, my aunt tore them up."

Noriko blinked, then did her best to ignore his unimportant aside, choosing to instead focus on more important things. "We are aware of your exploits," she stated, nodding in agreement. "We've been tracking you for the better part of four years all across Europe and Asia. We are well aware of just how extensive your journey has been."

"Wait, four _years_? " he repeated, blinking in honest surprise before his insufferable smile overtook his face. "You've been tracking me since basically the moment we met? That's some _serious_ dedication! "

Noriko closed her eyes in annoyance at the many memories of her own journey following his trails. "Yes. But as for the item we seek, it's a very rare potion recipe. The Ketsueki Shōten (Blood ascension) potion, which holds the key to creating new Ketsuen-sha. My clan head believes that you may have found and used it. And from following your travels, we have all but confirmed it. It's the only explanation for your draconic powers and traits."

Whatever expression she'd been anticipating and waiting for, Noriko felt her heart drop slightly as she saw him frown and shake his head. "I'm sorry. I've heard of the Ketsuen-sha, can't take five steps in Japan without running into one of your clans. But this potion, and what it does, has nothing to do with what I can do. I can proudly say that my powers were _earned_ with sweat, blood and tears, instead of any potion or elixir or such items. I went through more than a few trials by dragon-fire to get these abilities. My magic evolved and grew stronger with each dragon I killed. Just like in the old legends, of those who bathed in the blood of dragons or demons and gaining the powers of the slain. That is how I became what I am now."

"But-But, those were just legends. You _have_ to have the potion! " She was frantic now, if he was telling the truth, then that meant...

"Sorry, don't know what to tell you other than the truth, and that's what it is. I got like this by fighting dragons." He shrugged, crossing his arms as he closed his eyes, clearly sticking to his word. Noriko felt the ground fall out from under her.

"What?!" Kazuma gasped, equally as frantic and disbelieving as his sister. "Are you sure?! You can't be serious! How could killing a few dragons have turned you into a Ryuchi?! It doesn't make sense!"

"Don't know, kid," Harry said, shrugging nonchalantly as he looked over at him. "But that's what happened."

Noriko could barely hear them as it felt like her whole world was coming crashing down around her. "You don't have the potion… You don't know how you became a Ryuchi… This whole quest has been for naught…" It was taking all of her willpower to not break down in tears of fury and despair. Four years of her life had been _wasted_ chasing after smoke and shadows! What was she going to tell her father and mother? Tadahisa would be so _disappointed_ in her, and Kesshomaru would be just as equally _crushed_. The Elders would be _furious_. And many other Ketsuen-sha would be utterly _devastated_ when they learned that the potion was well and truly lost to the ages. And worst of all, she hadn't even gotten to beat the smugness out of the INSUFFERABLE FOOL before her.

Seeing the growing cloud of despair hanging heavily over his guests' heads, Harry felt a stab of pity for them. He really wanted to help, truly he did. But he didn't know the first thing about this potion and what it did. "If it's not asking too much, what is this potion and what does it mean to Wizarding Japan? I confess to not actually knowing a whole lot about that half of your culture. Most people tried to stab me when I dug too deep."

When Noriko failed to answer, still losing herself to the despair her failure had brought, Otosaki began to speak. "Ah, well, the way Obaachan tells it. Way back when, in the old days, a rather brilliant potion master was looking into shapeshifting when he had a success beyond his wildest dreams. Using the potion, he took in the blood of an Okami and became as it's child. He was the first Ketsuen-sha. With his new form and the powers it brought him, he quickly became a legend all across the land, slaying any who dare to stand in his way. Until one day he settled down, forsaking the life of battle in favor of a wife. Yet, it was his children that truly sparked our story. Like their father, they too bore the blood of the Okami. And like their father, their magic was all the more powerful for it. When the other Daimyo learned of his children, they came for them to take their power for themselves. To protect his children, the swordsman instead gave them the formula that had granted him all he had gained. Thus, began the start of our way of life."

"Okay, so that's how the Ketsuen-sha got their start, but that doesn't explain why you're looking for the recipe. I'm assuming it got lost or something?" Harry nodded as Otosaki paused to consider his next words.

"Indeed. For generations, the Ketsueki Shōten was used to bolster our numbers, spreading all across the Land of the Rising Sun. It is why we do not have Junketsu as the other lands do, because all who could claim to be as such eventually drank of the potion and became something more. The rite was even offered to the Ningen no Chi of the era, when they were accepted into our clans. In this fashion, we could maintain the purity of our power and blood, without risking the defects so common amongst the Junketsu. But, alas, all good things will end. During the Meiji Restoration, when our borders were once again beset upon by gaijin influences, a faction arose amongst the clans. A subsect of the Ikkō-ikki began to fear that the Wizards of other lands would grow to covet what had made us so powerful and so hatched a plot to ensure that the Ketsueki Shōten would never fall into enemy hands. They began simply at first, by gathering up any scroll or document that bore the formula. But as the stockpiling proceeded, they began to quietly _silence_ any potioneer who might know the formula by heart. Eventually, those few who still knew the formula caught onto the Ikkō-ikki's plot. But with the major clans caught up in the war, it fell to them to defend themselves. Much is unclear about what exactly happened next, but all accounts agree that those few who still knew the formula burned the Ikkō-ikki Compound, where they had hoarded the knowledge, to the ground and then fled to the mainland. Taking with them the source of our gifts. Since then, it has been a slow battle to ensure that our kind does not fall to the wayside, as the strength of our progenitors grows weaker and weaker with each generation."

Harry raised his brow in surprise. "Well, that sucks. But it's kinda ironic, you gotta admit. That said, you have my sympathy. So, if I've got this right, by mixing the blood of a creature with this potion, the drinker will gain certain powers and abilities similar to that of the creature in question? That would mean that none of you are fully human, are you?"

"Yuuup," Tsuchiya drawled, lifting an eyebrow towards him. "Got a problem with that, gaijin?"

"Oh, far from it!" Harry said, smiling serenely at them. "I'm just surprised at how incredibly different your culture is to Europe. As you probably know, they've become obsessed with the idea of 'cleansing their blood' of all impurities. And I'm guessing that in its heyday, your culture was the exact opposite by trying to get as much of the creatures' blood as possible into yours. Right?"

"More or less," Azuma admitted, nodding in acknowledgement.

"So, you all must be descendants of dragons or phoenixes," Harry observed. "That would explain Shimazu-san's affinity with fire."

"We are the children of dragons, yes," Kazuma stated, pride ringing in his voice. As Harry examined Kazuma more closely, he saw that he too bore the golden eyes of a dragon like his sister, but not quite as strongly as her for some reason. In fact, all of their eyes had a certain gleam of gold about them. ' _A genetic marker, perhaps?_ '

"So, what happens now?" Harry asked, directing his attention solely on Noriko, who had by managed to recover from her gloom and doom mentality to a certain extent. "Are you just going to pack up and leave? Going to try and 'avenge yourself' against me now that you've finally caught up? Or something else entirely?"

All eyes turned to Noriko. The young woman had her eyes closed as she contemplated her options. She really and truly did want to fulfill both her mission and her vendetta. The Elders had been quite clear in their instructions to her before she departed. _'Whether he has the Ketsueki Shōten or not, he_ _ **is**_ _a dragon and must be brought into the clan quickly_ ," those were their words. Not only had the Elders demanded this of her, but her father had also requested it. And if there was one thing in this life Noriko would never do, it was disappointing her father!

"You may not have Ketsueki Shōten, but you are still a _dragon_ ," she stated as she opened her eyes to gaze fiercely into his slightly-glowing emeralds. "My instructions were quite clear: bring you home with us, one way or another. And that is what I intend to do."

Her retinue all tensed slightly at her words as they turned their attentions to Harry, awaiting his reaction. Harry's expression remained frustratingly calm and stoic as he studied her, clearly analyzing just how serious she was. Glancing at her retinue, he saw that all of them were somewhat on edge, clearly anticipating him rejecting her demand and trying to escape or something. Not that it would end well for them, they all knew that he was far more powerful and stronger than them in every way. But they would still confront him alongside Noriko, if that's what it came to.

Finally letting lose a small sigh, Harry crossed his arms and sent that damnable disarming grin towards her. "Sorry, but I'm gonna have to postpone that." He quickly held up a hand in a pacifying manner as all of them moved to draw their swords and attack him. "Ah-bababah, let me explain, please." They paused for a long moment, before looking to Noriko for direction. The young woman's teeth were bared in an angry snarl, but after a long moment, she fought back her anger with the realization that he hadn't technically said 'no', and instead had given them something more along the lines of 'not yet'.

After they slowly retook their seats, Harry lowered his hand and calmly said, "As you've no doubt figured out, I'm in the beginning stages of a very large project with my cousin and our friends. What we are intending to do is to train our newest batch of disciples in the same ways we trained to get our own power. Though the process is difficult and we expect more'n half of them will likely quit, it is possible that we could teach them to harness greater levels of power and abilities than they'd otherwise be able to achieve by sticking to their books. You've already seen the fruits of our labor with our first batch of disciples. Piers was Dudley's best disciple, and he's been trailing in our heels since day one."

Seeing the impatient looks on his audience, he quickly said, "What I'm trying to say is that I have an obligation to my new disciples to train them over the course of this summer. Once the summer's finished and they return back to their homes, whether successful or not, _then_ I'll come with you to Japan and meet your clan, no struggle or complaints. Promise." He finished with a grin.

Noriko felt both elation at such a potentially painless bargain (especially after _years_ of chasing after this rogue dragon!) and worry of just what exactly he'll be teaching his new disciples. If the showing that she'd been given by Piers-san was any indication, then having such a large group of disciples potentially gaining similar levels of strength so quickly… It could spell potential tragedy for her family, clan, and country! And who knows if he'd even keep his word or not afterwards!

"But…" Harry drawled out, immediately regaining her attention. "I am also aware that you probably don't want to lose track of me after chasing me for so long. So, in the interest of fairness to you, I could bring you along with us." Noriko felt her breath catch in her throat as she heard that. If he was really offering her that, then she'd accept it with no hesitation.

"However, there is also a slight problem to that as well," Harry continued. "You see, each of our disciples have signed a magical contract of silence, forbidding them from revealing any and all of what they've learned to anyone else until we, Dudley and I, have determined that they are ready for the outside world's questions and scrutiny. Not only that, but that same contract is also the key to even allowing them safe passage into the training grounds at all. Do you understand the problem here?"

Noriko scowled but nodded. "The only way we could accompany you is to sign this magical contract and also become your disciples. But what happens if we break the contract for some reason?"

"Basically?" Harry said, his expression very serious. "Memory loss of everything you'd have learned from us since the moment you signed the contract. Sure, that wouldn't do much to reverse the strength you'd already have gotten, but you'd still be left floundering for a method of passing it on. But that's only if the breach was for a _minor_ offense, like trying to send coded messages or letters about the training to someone not affiliated with the dojo."

Despite herself, Noriko felt her respect for the fool rise slightly. It would seem that he wasn't taking any chances when it came to sharing his secrets with others. She could respect that, even if she didn't like it. Nodding, she said, "Could I see a copy of this contract to read and review?"

Harry's serious demeanor evaporated as he grinned, nodding in acceptance as he rose to his feet. He briefly searched through the small desk that was wedged into the far corner before coming back and handing a scroll to her.

As she was reading over the details in it, which were a slightly more complex version of what he'd just explained, she hesitantly asked, "...This training of yours? It is what allowed you to become a Ryuchi?"

"I wouldn't say it allowed me to _become anything_ ," Harry said bluntly, crossing his arms defensively. "But I _do know_ I wouldn't have survived my first fight with a dragon if it wasn't for my training. Now, maybe it was my training. Maybe I happen to have an ancestor who wound up doing the same thing the Clans back East used to do. Or, hell, maybe I'm the reincarnation of a Ryuchi and this is all because I decided to weaponize my soul. All I know is that I am what I am, and I wouldn't have gotten here without trying. So, are you gonna sign the contract or are you gonna slink back home in defeat? "

Noriko smiled back at the challenge, the contract already signed before the Salamander could finish speaking. "I do believe there is a Ningen saying for this... Ah, yes, 'bring it'."

Harry matched her smile with a knowing grin of his own.

* * *

Tellemicus Sundance's Author's Note: Whew, that was a whopper of a chapter that just came out of nowhere. I really have to lay a **_LOT_ ** of thanks to my friend Fiori75 for his incredible support in working this chapter! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it!

Fiori75's Author's Note: So a few answers before questions can start pouring in. First on the matter of Piers, Mal, Dennis, and Gordon. While I am sure many of you recognize Piers Polkiss, the other three are canon characters as well. This is the group of kids that in book five, backed Dudley up when he confronted Harry. Now as for how they became what they are, ask yourselves this. Say you have a friend that you watch step-by-step giving himself super powers. Not by a quirk of genetics, but with an actual process. Wouldn't you follow in his footsteps?

As for the History of the Ketsuen-sha, the short and sweet _unedited_ tale is that a poor thief of a wizard managed to get ahold of the recipe for Polyjuice from a Dutch wizard, and planned on using it to rob people blind. However, he lacked many of the ingredients, some due to region and others due to his own lack of funds. The end result was him permanently ending up as an anthropomorphic wolf, and his traits then breeding true. However since his accident became an integral part of Japan's magical culture, few people wanted to acknowledge that it was all a happy accident with slap-dash moonshine, so edits where made.


	10. Revelations and Ruminations

**.**

 **The Magic Revolution**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
Co-Authored by: Fiori75  
 _#10: Revelations and Ruminations  
_

 **July 1, 2015  
** **Sleeping Dragons Dojo  
** **Ilford, Greater London**

"Alright, ladies, listen up!" Dudley yelled as from his spot two meters in the air at the front of the group. He was dressed in a sleeveless white dougi with white kung fu pants and shoes. Upon the dougi's left breast there was the emblem of a black dragon with its wings spread and breathing fire triumphantly and a larger version of the same emblem on his back. Thanks to his dougi's lack of sleeves, the new disciples could also see an identical black dragon tattoo visible on his right shoulder. With his arms crossed as he hovered over them so they could all see and hear him, he certain cut a very intimidating figure with the slight scowl on his face. Even their new group of Ryuchi disciples found a shiver of fear as his gaze passed briefly over them.

"Your training has officially started!" Dudley barked. "That means that it's time for you all to shed any remaining connections you have to the outside world!" Gesturing to the side, he pointed towards a trio of tables lined with boxes that Mal, Piers, Dennis, and Gordon had brought out several minutes earlier. "Over there are your new uniforms! In a single file, organized fashion, you all will first go over there, tell us your clothing size, and then go get changed in the restrooms. We will provide you with bags and lock boxes to store your regular clothes and other items in, but you will not be allowed anywhere near them until your training is complete. Understand?!"

With that dark look he was sending down towards them, none of the new disciples felt inclined to question just why they needed an entirely new uniform. Wouldn't their current clothes work just fine for it? Still, with that wilting glare he was giving them, the Saiyan was making it perfectly clear just what he felt of any objections they might have had. Off to the side, Tom noticed that the Japanese contingent frowning and glaring, their grips on their swords tightening ever so slightly.

"Good!" Dudley barked. "First row! Turn and proceed!"

And so, it started. The 130 new disciples began the long process of acquiring and dressing in their new clothing. Tom Don'Elmo and Nikki Tonks found themselves side by side as they worked their way to the first table. This first table had Gordon and Dennis working together, digging through the boxes and handing each person three pairs of some kind of black shirt top in the sizes that they'd requested. The second table was Mal and Harry doing the same job, but handing over three pairs of black pants and shoes. The last table was Piers and Dudley, handing out their underclothes which consisted of an undershirt, socks, underwear, and what looked some type of white belts.

Moving into their separate restrooms, they were immediately beset by the large group of students who were already floundering about inside, trying to figure out how to put the new uniforms on. From the look of things, it wasn't going too well. Tom just let out an annoyed sigh before turning and making his way over to a small opening in the far corner. Starting with his pants, he quickly changed out of them and into his new set of black pants, socks, and shoes.

When he first put them on, Tom actually had to stop and blink in surprise. ' _I hadn't thought about it before, but these shoes are pretty comfortable, despite their weird designs. Now I see why the Saiyan and Salamander are always wearing these things. Those Japanese Wizards were also wearing something like these as well. That might mean that these come from the Far East. If so, I may have to look into that and see what other interesting new things they might have that we don't._ '

The robe top however was something else entirely. When he tried to slip it on like a normal robe, he realized that the front portion had far too much material which just bunched up and hung strangely at his front. Pulling the ends of that extra material up to look at closely, he studied its strangeness for a long moment, trying to understand how it would fit so tightly to his body when compared to how Dudley, Potter, and the others were wearing it. But then he blinked as he noticed a long strand of fabric hanging from the end. Why would that be there? It certainly didn't look like it was put there on accident either. Looking at the other half, he saw a similar strand hanging from there as well.

' _Am I supposed to tie them together?_ ' he did so, lightly. But he soon realized it didn't help matters. ' _Ok…If I don't tie_ _ **them**_ _together, what do I tie them to?_ '

It was at this time that he noticed one of the new arrivals, those strangely dressed foreigners who'd accompanied the sword girl. The boy was looked like he was barely old enough to start his Hogwarts schooling. But even when so young, the dark-haired and golden-eyed boy had a face that made it clear that he'd be a serious heart-throb to the ladies once he started maturing. Watching out of the corner of his eye, Tom's frown deepened as the studied the child. There was something…not quite right about him. He was just a little too…beautiful, a little too perfect, to be entirely human. ' _There's something not quite right about these Japanese wizards. And why did Harry and the Saiyan allow such a young child to join when they didn't allow anyone else as young as him when they were at Hogwarts? Are they already playing favorites?_ '

Just as he was about to turn away and return to his little problem of dressing himself, he blinked and then focused his attention onto the boy entirely. The boy was dressing himself in the robes and clothing the same as everyone else. _Unlike_ everyone else, he actually was slipping it on with no problems. There was an air of easy familiarity about him as he pulled the robe upon and started tying it in place. Seeing the boy's actions, Tom turned back to his own robe. Pulling the fabric up, he skimmed down the edge until he found another apparent hanging strand.

"Oh, I see," he said, grinning somewhat at his realization. After he figured it out, he quickly looped the sides of the robe top over his chest and tied them together securely. With another quick glance at the Japanese boy to see what else needed to be done, he smiled as he pulled the white belt on and tied around his waist, keeping his pants and robe pinned securely.

Smiling proudly, he moved over towards the mirror to take a look at himself. The reflection he saw was one that was both familiar and foreign at the same time. The blackness of the robes and new clothes were similar enough that he could easily compare them to his Hogwarts uniform. But the design and lack of sleeves on the robe top were also quite different.

"Hey, how'd you do that?!" one of the Russian students asked, having noticed that Tom had managed to figure out how to don the uniform correctly. "I can't figure out this top at all. Tell me!"

' _How rude_.' Tom thought scornfully as he crossed his arms over his chest. In a soft, calm voice, he said, "Ask me politely."

The Russian scowled darkly at him. But then snorted and went back to trying to figure it out on his own. Tom spared him a disgusted glance before turning and leaving. He could practically feel the heated, calculating gaze on his back from the angry Russian as he left, but he ignored it easily. ' _Making enemies already, I see. I wonder if I'm going to be in for a repeat of Hogwarts for this little summer school of Potter's_.' Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Tom exited the restrooms and returned back to the dojo's main chamber.

As he looked about, he realized that he had been fortunate. He had been in the front row, so he'd been able to get his uniforms and get changed first. Everyone else was either stuck in long lines waiting outside the restrooms for their turn to get inside or were trying to discretely change into their uniforms in scattered little groups throughout the dojo. Upon realizing this, Tom grinned and started chuckling lightly to himself.

"What's so funny, bub?" a voice asked. Turning, Tom found that it was one of the 'teaching assistants', the tall redhead, who was speaking to him.

"I just realized that the boys clearly haven't thought this through as entirely as I'd first assumed," Tom said before gesturing towards the long lines. "Look at this mess."

Gordon glanced at the line with an amused look. Sighing in an overly dramatic way, he turned back to Tom with a small smile playing across his face. "It might seem like that now, but this is like this for a reason. You'd be very surprised at just how thorough they've been when designing, building, and testing just about everything."

"Oh?" Tom said, his brow arching as he made a slight sweeping gesture. "And what's the purpose of this?"

"To start getting everyone accustomed with the fact that they're stuck together for the foreseeable future," Gordon answer cheerily.

"...That actually makes a slight amount of sense," Tom said, blinking slightly in surprise.

Nodding, Gordon leaned in slightly and said in a hushed voice. "Just a bit of a fair warning. Everything that's about to happen is designed to break you down so they can build you up anew. If you can endure it, you'll come back stronger and better than ever before." As he turned to leave, he suddenly stopped and turned back, "Head back over to the tables to pick a storage box for your things. We'll get them stowed in lockers shortly afterwards."

That sounded very ominous to the young man, a frown of contemplation crossing his face as he watched Gordon walk off to the side. ' _Designed to break us down? I guess that makes sense as well. But what happens if a person gets broken a little too far to be properly 'built anew'?_ '

After almost twenty more minutes of waiting and mounting frustrations and three separate eruptions of anger, the teenagers were finally properly dressed and reassembled in the dojo. The most notable of these eruptions came from the Japanese, most particularly the beautiful leader. She was clenching the hilt of her sword in a tight grip as she glared hotly at Harry.

"No!" she snapped out forcefully. "I won't do it!"

"You've forsaken your home for four years to hunt me, failed in your objective to get a hold of your potion, and then there's the questionable nature of your dignity considering how often you wind up naked while fighting. All of that, and after every loss, you kept going. And you're about to get the greatest pay off for your suffering. But you're going to risk all of that to hang onto a simple katana?" Harry was damn near cold with that tone of his as he delivered his ultimatum, and Tom would have expected anyone who'd seen just what he could do to relent. Instead the foreign girl inhaled once, and hardened her gaze.

"It is not _just_ a katana," the girl shot back angrily, not the least bit deterred. "This is _the_ _Namikiri_ , and it is the single most valuable thing I possess. She was forged from the scales of our foremother, and has been passed from clan heir to clan heir in a trial of steel since the very first Shimazu. I earned this blade the same way you earned your fire. You cannot ask me to simply hand her off. Especially to another Ryuchi."

"I'm not asking you to _sell_ me your family heirloom," Harry stated, after a slow exhalation. He was still cold, but something about his posture had shifted. It was a subtle thing that Tom would have missed had he not spent years in Slytherin. Just a small shift and gone was the demanding teacher, and there stood an understanding and friendly face. "I'm asking you to put it in _storage_ , where it won't be _lost or stolen_ , until this summer is over and you can _take it back_ again. The rest of the disciples have to surrender their things as well. If we allow you to keep your katana, especially since they can be used to intimidate and kill, while the rest of them go unarmed, it will _not_ go over well and will cause _everyone_ problems down the road."

Noriko frowned, but then her gaze shifted to the audience around them and took in their weary and anxious expressions, most of them gazing at the aforementioned swords with clear fear. Noriko looked to the ground, her lovely face shifting between a multitude of subtle expressions as she clearly was trying to decide on how to proceed.

"If it helps any," Harry offered with a soft, reassuring smile. "The lockers are specially enchanted so that _only you_ can open them. Anyone else will get a painful jolt before being repelled." That information seemed to assuage the girl's fears. In the end, she and her companions begrudgingly and reluctantly surrendered their weapons, carefully watching them all be locked away and enchanted for safety.

Not too long afterwards, Dudley was once again floating slightly above the group with his arms crossed and a severe expression on his face. Harry and the others were in the back doing something with the stairs that Tom couldn't see since he had to focus on the Saiyan.

"Now that we're all changed, it's time for you to officially receive the Dojo Mark," Dudley said, digging something out of his pants pocket. Holding it up, it was revealed to be a large stamp of some kind. "Each of you who wants our training is required to wear one of these Marks. This Mark has several different magical functions, but the one that you should be most concerned about right now is this. Without this Mark, you will not be granted entry to the actual training grounds we're about to take you to."

' _This sounds a lot like Voldemort's Dark Mark_ ,' Tom thought somewhat darkly, frowning in contemplation. ' _I wonder what 'other functions' it also has? None of these boys seem the type to try anything underhanded like the magical siphoning Voldemort added to_ _ **his**_ _Mark. Could they have put in a torture curse like him but as a means of training or forcing obedience? I know they can be dark when the time calls for it, but could this all be part of a ruse to conscript us into joining an army?_ '

"If you decide that you can't stand the thought of wearing our Dojo Mark, the door's right there!" Dudley declared with his arms again crossed and his eyes shut. "Consider this your final chance of backing out of the contract and training. There will be no loss of face and we will respect your decision. But once you leave through that door, you will not be welcome back until this time next year."

For a moment, no one spoke or moved. Everyone was waiting for someone else to make the first choice as tension started to rise within the students. The pressure to just call it quits and leave was mounting at an accelerating rate. As he too was looking about, Tom suddenly blinked as he remembered Gordon's warning, ' _Designed to break you down so they can build you up anew_.' ' _I see, it's_ _ **already**_ _started!_ '

Just as he was about to swallow his pride and step forward, someone else beat him to it. It was that dark-haired beauty from earlier, the foreign contingent's leader who'd almost refused to part with her sword. Her name...Shimazu Noriko, a foreign name that felt off on his tongue, yet he remembered it all the same. One did not forget someone's name after the display she had made with one of the 'assistants', not unless they wished to draw what seemed to be a very dangerous temper. Tom had seen more than a few beings of inhumanly beauty before. Veela, like the former Beauxbatons Champion who was also among the group here, were some of the most obvious and common of such creatures in Europe for example. But the beauty that this Japanese girl exuded was of a different kind than that of what a Veela does. Veela beauty makes a man want to try and create flowery poetry to better describe it. But this girl had an aura that instilled equal parts fear and awe. That begged the question: what kind of creature was she and her group descended from?

She stepped out of the crowd and walked up to where Dudley was hovering, all hints of the reservations she'd show earlier now gone as she raised her hand beckoningly towards him. The blonde warrior smirked as he descended to the ground. The watching teenagers watched with baited breath as he pressed the stamp down on her right shoulder for several long seconds. When he pulled it back, there was a small burst of sparkles visible before a pale shape the size of a man's fist emerged from her flawless skin. Even from a distance, Tom easily recognized the image to be that of a white dragon's egg.

As the Japanese girl was looking over the image with interest, Dudley turned back to the crowd and answered the most obvious question they were all pondering in confusion. "The egg _represents_ what you all are at this point. You are as knowledgeable and skilled as an unborn child or _hatchling_. But as you grow in strength, power, and knowledge, that egg will eventually start to crack open and hatch. Once that hatchling has fully emerged from its shell and becomes a dragon in its own right, _only then_ can you consider yourselves a _true_ Chi-Adept!"

"So, the tattoo changes as time goes on?" someone asked from the crowd.

"Only with _training_ and _discipline!_ " Dudley clarified.

' _What an interesting symbolism_ ,' Tom thought with a grin.

"Now, anybody else want one?"

* * *

 **Training Camp  
** **Unknown Location [Sværholt Peninsula, Norway]**

Cold.

That was the first impression that all of the new disciples had as they arrived. A cold, biting wind that shot right through their thin, sleeveless dougi, causing everyone to automatically start shivering and try to rub some warmth into their rapidly cooling limbs. The landscape was that of green and black with them standing on the highest point of a small peninsula wedged between a pair of fjords and mountainous ridges. The sky was dark and overcast, looking ready to open up with a downpour at any second.

A loud creaking sound behind them alerted the group of disciples to the structure behind them. The group of disciples had landed in front of a large four-meter high stone wall with massive wooden gates. Above the gateway was a massive wooden plague that had 'Sleeping Dragons' crudely burned into it, making it seem worn and rustic. But as crude as it looked, it seemed all the more impressive for that. At the bottom of the slowly opening gates were Dudley and Harry, unperturbed by the abrupt change of temperature. They had unlatched them and were both pushing one of the doors open with seemingly casual ease. The doors slid open to reveal the interior of what was clearly a large courtyard. The new disciples could easily see two identical buildings on opposite sides of the gate and what looked like a large tower further inside.

As the boys led the way inside, Harry raised his voice as he roared out, "WHITE DRAGONS! BLACK DRAGONS! ASSEMBLE IN THE DOJO!"

' _Black dragons?_ ' was the unanimous confused thought that ran through all of the disciples as they followed their professors inside.

As the group were moving through the short street between the two buildings and reached the courtyard itself, they were finally given a chance to take in the size and immensity of the area they were in. Besides the two buildings they just passed by, there was another longer building that had an almost identical appearance and structure to the dojo they'd just left behind, only this dojo was much longer, easily 200 meters longer in length. There was also an elevated circular pattern that was ringed by a series of ropes and was divided into quarters of red and blue. In the far corner of the walled area, there was what was clearly a vegetable and herb garden. And finally, peeking visibly over the far wall and just barely visible over the dojo's roof was a large seven-story tower.

Turning back to the group, Dudley swept his arm out towards the area. "Welcome to your home away from home, my little eggs! Don't worry, you'll grow to love it in no time!" The fact that he said that with a rather sinister grin on his face that caused a massive shiver to run down their spines which had nothing to do with the cold air around them made the disciples immediately doubt that claim.

"In case any of you are wondering," Harry said, easily picking up where Dudley left off. Pointing towards one of the buildings behind them, he said, "That building is the boys' dormitory. The other is for the girls." Gesturing over his shoulder, he continued, "That is the dojo where the majority of our training is likely due to take place. That little area there is the Challenge Ring. The Ring is reserved for official challenges or the settlement of disputes."

"For example!" Dudley interrupted, grinning toothily. "If one of you thinks you've been cheated or have got a problem with another disciple, you are free to challenge that person to a duel. To the victor goes the spoils!"

"Also!" Harry said, speaking over Dudley easily. "We _will not_ abide bullying or schoolyard scrapes. That is what the Challenge Ring is for! If we find out that someone's picking fights _outside the Ring_ , there will be _severe consequences!_ "

Seeing that they all understood, Harry nodded before finishing the impromptu tour. "That's our vegetable garden. We've got a little bit of everything. So, if you want something to eat that we haven't had made, feel free to go pick a few pieces. But don't be wasteful! The only thing we hate more than bullying is someone being wasteful of food!"

"And finally, there's the Tower outside!" Dudley said, pointing towards the structure. "That place has multiple different uses and facilities inside it. But the main ones you'll be concerned with are these. The Tower is where the kitchens, dining hall, and game rooms are. Unlike everywhere else, the Tower is to be a safe zone! Absolutely _no fighting_ is allowed inside! That place is only for rest and relaxation after a long day's training! Understood?!"

Nobody argued with that. In fact, most of the disciples were now gazing at the tower with wide eyes of blatant interest, no doubt already fantasizing about what mysteries lay within.

"Now, come, white dragons!" Harry called, turning towards the Dojo and beckoning them to follow. "We've still got a few more surprises and revelations to unfold on you lot."

As they followed their instructors towards the dojo, Cedric Diggory couldn't help but pause as he drew nearer. Was it his imagination or did he hear the low murmur of conversation drifting through those thin paneled walls ahead of him? Glancing over at his former rivals Fleur and Krum, they each sent him a few quizzical looks of their own. Clearly, he wasn't the only one who noticed. Those suspicions were proven accurate as the doors were slid open to reveal a much larger interior version of the dojo from London. And seated in neat rows upon the floor to one side of the dojo was a much larger group of peopleAnd all of them turned to look at the arriving group with equal interest as the Twin Calamities led them inside. Due to the relatively neat rows they were in, it was easy to get a quick estimate of how many there were. All totaled from the group that were already present, there were about 330 people waiting for them.

Looking amongst the new group, Cedric saw some interesting things about them. All of them wearing were dougi of similar designs as the new arrivals, except that most of them were white instead of black. All of them had a white or black dragon egg tattoo on their right shoulders. And, except for maybe a dozen adults of varying ages and facial features, all of them were teenagers, evenly mixed between male and female. During his inspection, Cedric noticed that the majority of them seemed to be from different countries.

"Dragons, take a seat!" Dudley barked as he and Harry shot forward and took their places at the front of the dojo. Once the new arrivals were seated in rows similar to those already present, he continued, "Now, let's get the rather big elephant in the room out of the way first. White Dragons! The Black Dragons are aspiring Ki-Adepts, _like me_. And _one of them_ is going to be your _new partner_ for the rest of your stay here! _Get used to it!_ " More than a few of the Wizards and Witches present recoiled in surprised shock and disgusted horror as just what those few sentences meant.

"Black Dragons!" Harry called out while the wizard children were still recoiling. "The guys dressed in black dougi are all children born of _wizards and witches_. They live in _secret magical societies_ whose _biggest law_ is the preservation and _secrecy_ of their little world. They were raised to look down on and hate you just because you born _without_ magic. _Don't_ hold it against them. They didn't know any better than to believe their _parents_. But if they start giving you problems, feel free to disabuse them of that belief _in the Challenge Ring!_ "

All of the wizardborn teenagers were openly gawking in horror at the sheer brazenness of the Twin Calamities' statements and blunt revelations. Either that, or they were glaring in open disgust towards their white-dressed counterparts.

"Oh?" one of the Black Dragons called back, sounding not entirely surprised or even perturbed. "Is that all? I thought it would've been something much worse, considering it's _you two_." That statement earned a lot of quiet chuckles and careless shrugs from the aspiring Ki-Adepts.

"That's it?" Cedric couldn't help asking the nearest Muggle to him as he turned to stare at the group across from him. "They just told you we were magical and all you do is shrug?"

"...Listen, bub, we aren't even sure if those two didn't punch their way outta a manga. In case you didn't notice, one of them can _fly_ and the other has a core temperature that should have boiled his own brain. And we've all been _crazy enough_ to step into the ring with them... multiple times. Wizards and magic ain't exactly that weird after the Saiyan over there uses you to play out an Internet meme."

"What?" There were a lot of confused looks mirroring Cedric among the magical disciples at that reply.

"Just—look, if either of them says the words 'beat a motherfucker with another motherfucker' while looking at you, either run or go completely limp. Trust me."

"Hey! Don't take away my fun!" Dudley scolded, looking very upset for reasons the Wizards didn't understand. "Half the fun's in the confused shock value as they try to figure it out! Don't take that away from me!"

"Can we get back to the situation at hand?" one of the few adults demanded. He was a tall, strongly built fellow, with a severe expression on his face and an extremely short military-styled haircut. It didn't take much imagination to see him proudly dressed in a cameo uniform, holding an M4, as he barked out orders to a platoon of soldiers. "What is our training schedule going to consist of?"

"Patience, Sergeant," Harry reprimanded lightly, grinning at the military man. "We're getting there. We just need to deal with this issue first. Trust us on this!"

"DO YOU TWO HAVE ANY IDEA JUST HOW BIG OF A BREACH IN THE STATUTE OF SECRECY THIS IS?!" Hermione Granger finally exploded, more than a bit angry as she glared at the two unrepentant teenagers. Perhaps the most ironic thing that she didn't even notice was that a vast majority of her fellow disciples, even the Slytherins, looked as though they _completely_ agreed with her for the first time since…ever, really.

"Annnnd, there's the reason why," Dudley deadpanned as he looked over the other group. "Wizarding World Indoctrination 101."

"I didn't have a problem with you two causing so much trouble," Hermione continued, looking like she was building up a full head of steam. "I've researched your past exploits and it was _inevitable_ that you'd cause trouble during many of those times. But to bring _Muggles_ here for _training?!_ This is a breach that we just cannot ignore! The Statute of Secrecy was made for several _really good_ reasons! Are you trying to provoke _war_ between Wizards and Muggles?! Do you have any idea of the consequences of this could be?!"

"Are you done yet?" Dudley interrupted rudely as he idly picked at his ear.

"Oooh, no! I've still get plenty—"

"Glad to hear it!" Dudley interrupted again, a bit more forcefully this time. "Now that the initial temper tantrum is over, how about we explain why we're doing this?"

"I have to say," Harry said with a disappointed sigh. "Although I expected this, this is still _unbelievably_ disappointing. Did none of you fully read the contract before you signed it? We were quite clear on how we were going to be training you. We practically told you the first time we brought you down to our island!"

"Contract? What's _that_ got to do with this?" a Hufflepuff asked.

"Told us _what?!_ " one of the French wizards demanded gruffly, still glaring at the Muggles.

"Unbelievable," Harry muttered lowly, though was still clearly audibly by many. "Simply unbelievable."

"The contract said _nothing_ about us having to learn new magic with _Muggles_ involved!"

"Oh, _really_?" Dudley yelled out, his temper shooting up faster than a rocket as his golden aura started leaking outwards faintly. "It said _nothing about this_ , eh? Did you _even read the fine print?! Or did you just_ _ **skip over the boring parts**_ _to find out what the_ _ **consequences of**_ _ **breaking the contract would mean to you?! HUUHH?!**_ " Somehow, the furious Saiyan was projecting his aura in such a way that he seemed to grow magnitudes larger than his true size, looming over the magical disciples with an ominous air of imminent pain and unbridled rage. Needless to say, many of the angry Chi-Adepts were almost immediately cowed into submission by this terrifying display.

"That's enough, Dud," Harry said plainly, grabbing his cousin's shoulder. Within a split second, the terror-inducing aura vanished and Dudley returned to his normal self, though his earlier glare remained firmly locked in place. Turning back to the magicals, he said, "To answer your questions, we've said from day one that we would be training you 'as we had trained ourselves'. And we've made no secret just what we are in the classic sense. Muggle or Nomaj—" he gestured towards Dudley.

"Wizard—" Dudley said gesturing to Harry. "Side by side from the _very start_ of our training!"

"I couldn't have become as strong as I am without Dudley pushing me onward harder," Harry said, nodding in acknowledgement towards Dudley.

"I couldn't have learned how to use my ki without Harry's guidance," Dudley revealed, a look of total seriousness on his face.

"If you cannot abide by this, we will take you back home and you can consider our contract ended, and all that goes with it!" Harry barked fiercely. That statement earned a lot of shared glances between both groups. But while many of the Ki-Disciples looked content to remain and learn, there must've been easily three dozen Chi-Disciples who were seconds away from turning around and leaving. It was one such young man that strode forward, his chest puffed and anger clearly on display as he strode well into Dudley's personal space.

"I think we've _all_ had just about enough of this! We've catered to your delusions of Muggle-hood long enough. _You—Are—A—_ _ **Wizard**_ _!_ Do you know _why?_ Because there is absolutely _no way_ on this earth for a filthy, mud-dwelling _muggle_ to do _any_ of the things that _you_ can!" the teen spat out at the younger boy.

Dudley, for his part, merely narrowed his eyes at the childish display. Then he coldly asked, "Okay, so say I am a wizard. Sure. Missed my Mugwarts letter and everything. Makes sense, I was with Harry and he missed his. But then, how do you explain Piers, Malcom, Dennis, and Gordon, hmm?"

" _Wizards! All_ of you!"

"Well, that's funny," Harry said, his teeth bared slightly in restrained anger. "Have you ever heard of five Muggleborns all living in the same neighborhood, let alone the same street?"

"Wh-What?" the wizard sputtered, suddenly seeming a bit unsure of himself.

"Yeah, the six of us grew up together," Dudley explained with a smirk. "All of us on Privet Drive. And to add to that, none of them got a classic little meet and greet to explain the facts of magic with one of your teachers. So, can ya explain that?"

"M-Memory charms," the boy declared, still fumbling somewhat. "Standard protocol for Mudbloods who won't comply."

"Oh, and what about the _other_ part?" Dudley pressed on relentlessly. "Have you ever heard of _six_ 'magical' children all living in the same muggle neighborhood?"

"N-No. But—"

"No," Harry interrupted. "So, you've got two impossibilities here, mate. Either we're the biggest fuck up in your bureaucratic history, or we're a gang of muggles, here to shatter _your_ delusions of grandeur. Either way, _you_ will never find out. Go stand outside over there!" He pointed off towards the sliding doors they'd entered through. The implication was immediately obvious to everyone.

"What?!" the Pureblood repeated in shock.

"We will _not_ be teaching you," Harry said bluntly. "You're going home."

"Wha—Why?! Because I refuse to cater to your delusions!?" the Pureblood hastily argued.

"No," Dudley answered, crossing his arms as he glared down upon the insect who stood before him. "Believe all you want that I'm a wizard. I can assure you that will be one of the _first_ delusions you'd have been disabused of. No, you're leaving because we've said it _time and again_. We _**will not**_ allow bias to interfere with our training. Hate anyone you like, but let it interfere and you're _gone_. _And you let it interfere_."

Seeing that the Pureblood still refused to move from his spot, Dudley stepped back slightly as he raised an arm and pointed his palm at the boy's chest. "Now, _leave!_ " he accented his demand by releasing an invisible pulse of power that knocked the wind from the boy's lungs and sent him flying backwards towards the doorway. Of their own accord, the doors rapidly slid open and allowed the boy to pass through before sliding shut with a resounding _clack_.

"Now that _that's_ out of the way," Dudley said loudly as a small grin appeared, earning everyone's attention again. "We can _finally_ get down to business and discuss your training regimes!" This statement caused everyone to perk up in visible interest.

"I won't lie, people," Dudley continued. "Training almost 500 disciples simultaneously is simply _impossible_ , even for us! That being the case, we brought in some outside help. Sensei? Could you come up and introduce yourselves?"

The large group of disciples looked around with interest as the dozen adults who were already present stood up and walked over towards the front with the Twin Calamities. Much to the surprise of the Chi-Disciples, most of the adults shared Asian features. Although, there were a few non-Asians in the group, namely three more military-looking men and a rather dashing blonde man whose good looks caused more than a few yearning sighs from the girls in the group.

"These men have agreed to help us," Harry said. "In exchange for learning from us, they have agreed to give each of you lessons in their own fighting styles. These styles include Karate, Jujutsu, American Kickboxing, Muay Thai, Boxing, Chinese Kenpo, and more. We also have with us four military Drill Sergeants on loan to us from their respective militaries. Each of these men's jobs are to work you kids to the bone and get your strength, speed, coordination, and teamwork up to snuff." The various disciples inspected the men closely for several moments before the boys asked them to return to their seats.

"As for the training itself, your days are going to consist of this," Dudley said. "At dawn, you'll wake up and start early morning stretches and exercises, headed by our Drill Sergeants. Obey and listen to them as though they're your school teachers or professors! After that, we'll have a short breakfast and then begin the first of our meditations and spiritual lessons where we'll coach you in reaching and drawing out your inner power. Next, you'll break up into our various classes with the Sensei to learn how to properly fight. After lunch, you'll have a short hour-long session of our military stretches and exercises, and then you'll resume your forms training for the rest of the afternoon. Following dinner, we'll give you another session on meditation and spirituality. And then, at precisely 10 o'clock, it's lights out!"

"This will be your work schedule for the first two weeks you're here," Harry said, taking over easily. "The reason for this is that we need to raise your various levels of physical endurance and abilities. If you're too weak, you could cause yourself some pretty severe, even potentially _lethal_ , backlashes when you start using your inner power. I _can't_ stress the _**importance**_ of this enough! We almost _died_ several times the first few times we tried this when we were still new at all this because we didn't understand the importance of stamina and strength."

"However," Dudley said, seeing more than a few distressed looks among the crowd. "We understand that training like this nonstop is both painful and impractical. So, this schedule is only in effect from Monday to Saturday. Sunday is your day off, no training whatsoever. That day is yours and yours alone. Use it as you will." This earned quite a few sighs of relief from the teenagers, who couldn't stand the thought of having absolutely no playtime or private time during what was technically their summer vacation.

"Now, the last but _most important_ thing," Harry said. Turning to the Ki-Disciples, he said gestured towards the Chi-Disciples, "Black Dragons! Pick a face you like! That person will be your new partner! Choose wisely, as this person will be your shadow and at your side until the very end!"

While the Chi-Disciples immediately started groaning and crying out in anger or denial, the various Ki-Disciples climbed to their feet and moved tentatively into the other group. More than a few of wizards tried to yell at them and start trouble. And while a few of them were cowed or driven away, many of the disciples ignored them as they went about making their choice. Predictably, Fleur and Noriko ended getting fought over the most by no less than a dozen boys each, much to the shared amusement and exasperation of the girls. Those disputes only ended when the girls themselves randomly selected a partner for themselves from the groups.

In the end, more than a dozen of the wizards flat-out refused to be paired up with a 'filthy Muggle'. Those wizards had quickly separated themselves from the group and stormed up to the Salamander, demanding they be given partners of more 'appropriate blood stock' than what was available.

"You _will_ accept a Black Dragon as a partner or you can _leave!_ " Harry had roared out, an unwavering note of finality in his tone. "Those are your _only_ choices! Now, choose!"

Without even a second's hesitation, _all_ of them immediately declared that they were leaving.

" _So be it!_ " Harry snapped angrily, though there was a definite look of disappointment on his face. "Wait outside with the other guy, we'll be back to take you home in an _hour_ or so."

* * *

 **Sleeping Dragons Dojo  
** **Ilford, Greater London  
One hour later…**

He stared at the strange building with interest. The architecture was like nothing he'd ever seen before and he'd been all over Wizarding Europe in his youth. ' _Some kind of…Muggle style from somewhere?_ ' he wondered. ' _It is certainly eye-catching, which I suppose was probably what the boys have been intending from the beginning_.' That thought caused the seed of worry he was unintentionally nurturing to continue sprouting.

But as he gazed upon the building, Dumbledore couldn't help thinking that this place would've been absolutely perfect for building an army of warriors obedient only to them and willing to bring chaos to the world in a few years' time. After all, what better place to hide something insidious than plopping it down right in front of a Muggle street with absolutely no magical protections? Any other wizard would've scoffed at the idea and passed it by, looking for a more traditional magical dwelling. The address supplied could've just been the rallying point (if not entirely fake) before they took their new recruits and went to the real dwelling.

' _Guess I won't know for certain if I don't investigate_ ,' he thought, glancing down at the Muggle business card and the printed address one last time. Marshaling his courage and steeling his resolve in preparation for what he might find, Dumbledore stepped through the large gateway and immediately froze. ' _What kind of magic was that? Some kind of detection ward?_ '

Drawing his wand, he swished and waved it about, searching and analyzing the strange magic he had felt only very faintly brush over his being like a cool whisper of wind. But for all his searching, he couldn't find anything decisive. ' _This is_ _ **exceedingly**_ _high-level warding! How could a boy with no traditional schooling in the magical arts achieve such remarkably complex casting? This is on the level of the Goblins…!_ ' Even as the thought occurred to him, Dumbledore realized the truth.

' _No, it can't be!_ ' His eyes were wide as all the hints and pieces started coming together in his mind. ' _They have fought Goblins before…in Germany, if I remember right. Harry said that…Dudley killed the Warboss…By traditional Goblin laws…that makes Dudley the…new Warboss! And they mentioned defensive enchantments and 'special effects' being applied to their facility. Why didn't I catch this then?! They don't have the schooling and experience necessary for such work…but the Goblins do! And this would explain the high cost that they charged the Confederation for enrolling their disciples. This isn't good! The Goblins have been secretly in league with these two for years and we Wizards haven't even noticed! This is bad! This is really, really bad!_ '

It took a lot of effort and more than a few deep breaths to calm himself down from the rising panic attack that was coming on. With the Goblin nation at their beck and call, and now they're training up subordinates to aid in their schemes, who knows just how extensive the damage and chaos could become! ' _This has to stop_ _ **now**_ _!_ ' Firming himself, Dumbledore strolled forward and grabbed the door, pulling on it. Strangely, the door didn't budge a millimeter. Humming, he tried pushing instead, and again the door didn't budge. Now confused, Dumbledore took a step back and drew his wand again.

"Alohamora!" Much to his embarrassment, Dumbledore watched as the door slid to the side with no magical resistance. ' _Even their_ _ **doors**_ _are bizarre and troublesome!_ '

Closing the door behind him once he stepped through, Dumbledore proceeded to walk forward, taking in his surroundings and waving his wand about. There was some kind of magic in the air. But it wasn't like any kind he'd ever felt before. It wasn't Dark or malicious, but nonetheless he could feel it, pressing down on his body like a lead weight. ' _Maybe some kind of protection magic to hinder or incapacitate unwanted guests or intruders?_ '

"—so consider this the end of our contract," a familiar voice was saying as he approached the ramp down into the large chamber. Looking around the large but empty room, he quickly found a group of more than a dozen teenagers crowded around a long row of lockers. And standing just in front of them with his back to Dumbledore was a very familiar boy, the very boy he had been seeking in point of fact. "Now, get your things and I'm sure the old man behind me will be happy to escort you home!"

Despite himself, Dumbledore couldn't help quirking his eyebrow at that. Harry knowing of his presence on the premises wasn't surprising, but knowing or assuming that he'd be willing to help these students get home? That wasn't something he'd been expecting. Still, his words seemed to have an impact on the dozen teenagers in front of him. Dumbledore recognized most of them as being Purebloods, particularly those with strong Death Eater sentiments. It didn't take much to guess just why they were here, still it'd probably be better to not jump to conclusions here. He watched in silent contemplation as they went about finding their own locker and recovering their stored possessions.

"Have I interrupted your training?" he asked, trying to sound and look as benevolent as he could when the Potter boy turned around to face him.

"Nah," Harry said, waving one of his hands in a dismissive gesture. "These are just the day one washouts."

"Washouts already? My, my," To be truthful, Albus was far from surprised at that little revelation. But now, a little test was in order. "What happened, Mr. Potter?"

"They disagreed with our methods," Harry answered, stuffing his hands into his pockets in an entirely relaxed posture, clearly not desiring a fight or even feeling threatened by the mighty Wizard's presence. It was a little disconcerting, especially since Dumbledore _knew_ that it wasn't just teenaged cockiness either.

"And what methods would those be?" he pressed, trying to keep himself restrained and calm in the face of the boy. ' _It would be so much easier to just use Legilimency to find all the answers to my questions!_ '

"That's a trade secret, old man," Harry shot back bluntly, arching an eyebrow at him. "Did you _really_ expect such an easy answer?"

"I guess not, but it was worth a short," he admitted. "But my curiosity has been raised. How could so many be washed out so quickly? I mean, it couldn't have been more than a few hours since they arrived. What went wrong?"

Cocking his head as he closed his eyes, Harry clearly started contemplating the virtues of answering those questions while he waited for the former disciples to finish up. After a long moment, he finally answered, "Let's just say that they let their Pureblood prejudices against Muggles and Muggleborns cloud their judgment." Opening his eyes, he stared long and hard at the Headmaster. "Don't bother trying to interrogate them. The silence clause of their contracts have already been enacted, meaning they remember nothing of what's happened, what they might've learned, or even where they were."

A frown crossed Dumbledore's face. "You are being _very_ thorough in keeping your secrets hidden. I am actually _very impressed_ by it."

"Not trying to impress _anyone_ ," Harry shot back, not at all moved by Dumbledore's attempt to stoke his pride and ego. "Just don't want what we know to fall into the wrong hands."

"And who would that be?" he asked pointedly.

"Lunatics, psychopaths, Pureblood supremacists, Muggleborn extremists, the arrogant, the greedy, just any _bad people_ in general." The smirk on Harry's face was equal parts Lily's self-assured grin and James's mischievous smirk for when he was plotting trouble.

"And how do you know you've picked the _right people_?" There was far more implied in that question than Dumbledore really wanted to admit to.

"And who are _you_ to determine who the 'right people' are?" Harry countered easily. "And I don't mean _who_ you are, but what right do _you_ have to make that choice?"

"I'm sorry?" Dumbledore asked, slightly confused.

"I know _who_ you are. But the real question is, do _you_ know who you really are?" Harry asked cryptically.

"I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I have been the Headmaster of Hogwarts for 50 years, had been Chief Warlock of Great Britain's Wizengamot for 49 years, and the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW for 48 years," he stated clearly, trying to impress upon Harry _exactly_ how important to magical society he has been for many decades prior.

"And yet, you are perhaps the _least qualified_ person to tell me _anything_ ," Harry said simply. Seeing Dumbledore's confused face, he clarified, "You are an old man. You are a very old man. You are the living legacy of perhaps two or even three past generations of Wizards and Witches and their culture. And because of that, you still continue to see the world as you've always known it. You are probably the greatest font of history I've ever met, with all kinds of interesting anecdotes and lessons learned from past experiences. But that's just the problem, you are almost _too_ old. So old that the world you grew up in has almost nothing in common with the one we live in now. When was the last time you took a walk down one of London's streets and just took in the sights and wonders that the Muggles have achieved? Probably not for twenty years, eh?"

Despite himself, Dumbledore found himself nodding in reluctant agreement to that guess. It _had_ indeed been many years since he'd walked among the Muggles for any extended period of time. "What is your point, Mr. Potter?"

"My point is that times have changed since you were younger," the boy answered levelly. "And now, thanks to Dudley and me, they are going to change even more and probably much faster. As sad as it may be to admit, but your generation is over, sir. You had your time to shine and make the world into as best of a place as you could manage. Now it's _my_ generation's turn. It's our turn to grow, make mistakes, and lead this world into the future. You probably won't like a lot of what's going to happen, but that's life for you."

"And if you're 'mistakes', as you call them, end up hurting innocent people? You cannot just expect me to sit back and simply let that happen, can you?" the older man questioned seriously.

"Well, we can't know if something even is a mistake until after the fact now, can we? But even then, they are still _our_ mistakes to make. And thus, they'll be ours to deal with. You're not going to be around forever, old man. So, someone's got to stumble and fall into your position sooner or later. Why shouldn't that be me or Dud?" Harry replied glibly.

"And what precisely makes you think it _should_ be the two of you?" Dumbledore asked harshly, a prominent frown on his face. "You are both children. You yourself haven't even turned 15 yet, and your cousin is not that much older. Yet you feel that you know enough that you have some sort of _**right**_ to go against hundreds of years' worth of wisdom. How can I, an old man who has seen where such thinking leads, not try and do something about it?"

"Because it is the right of the young to question the old. So, I'm well within my rights to go against hundreds of years' worth of wisdom for probably the very same reason why others have tried in the past," Harry said lowly. "Now I might fail, or I might succeed, but I have grown up in both worlds. I have seen the differences of _both_. I have seen what _works_ and what _doesn't_. I may be young, but I have _far_ more worldly experience that most other kids my age could _ever_ hope to have. Do I think I'm superior to them? _No, I do not._ In fact, in a way, I _envy_ all of those other kids and their _normal_ life styles. But that doesn't mean I'm going to shirk away from the responsibly I now possess." Dumbledore merely raised an eyebrow, clearly wanting a more informative answer.

"Because I have seen so much of the world," Harry continued. "I feel I have a better understanding of what works and why. Better even than you do, because you've spent your entire life within the confines of Wizarding Europe. You haven't traveled and experienced the world and all it has to offer. I have. This gives me a perspective on so many things. I can look at a problem that has been plaguing generations of wizards and find a solution that they never could because I have learned to look at those same problems in a different way and I'm willing to try something new. It may not always work out as I want it to, but that's just part of the learning experience."

Focusing all of his attention upon the old man before him, Harry stared boldly into his eyes as he concluded with, "You can and will try to stop me if you feel you must. That is your right as my elder and a leader of men. But know this: I will never stop trying to make the world a better place. My ideas and actions may seem radical and dangerous, but that is only because you've never seem them enacted before. You, who's spent all of your life isolated within your little bubble, will fear and lash out at anything new simply because you don't have the same experiences and perspective that I do. You are right to be cautious of new ideas, since there's a chance it might not work out as we want them to. But you would be a fool of epic proportions to try and reject them outright. Change is inevitable. It can be good or bad, depending on your point of view. All you can really do is ask yourself this. Will you fear the change that is coming and try to stop it or will you take a step back, step out of your little bubble, to try and look at things from a different angle?"

For his part, Albus could only shake his head in sorrow as words so very similar to those he himself had once used to rail against his own elders were almost spat right back at him. He could see too much of his youth in the young man before him, himself and Gellert. So much that it both scared and saddened him. Such surety and idealism had once doomed the world to a war that affected both sides of their world, and now here before him stood another young man that seemed bound and determined to repeat the mistakes of his youth. And he could do nothing to stop it. He was simply the Headmaster now, no positions of power to use to his advantage, save for his castle of learning.

"You are a fool, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore sighed, sounding every bit as old as he was.

"Better a fool who'll risk it all on a distant dream than a man content with a stagnant world," Harry fired back.

"Not when that fool will put the world to the torch in pursuit of his dream."

"Then we'll just have to see which kind of fool I am then, won't we?"

Dumbledore stared at Harry for a long moment, before a letting out a long, slow sigh. And with that exhalation went any fighting power he might've had left in reserve. Harry seemed to catch onto this as the slight tensing of his posture from over the course of the argument had slackened somewhat in response. Deciding to offer up an olive branch, Harry asked, "Was there anything in particular you wanted to know while you're here? I assume you came not only to interrogate me, but to find out what some of your own students might be learning, right?"

Recognizing Harry's attempt to steer the conversation to safer subjects, Dumbledore conceded and nodded. "Indeed. Given the…displays you've shown already, I find myself rather nervous for what potential damages my school might endure next year. To say nothing about the students."

Harry chuckled a little sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry about that. Dudley and I tend to go a little overboard when we start having fun." He glanced up at the old man, catching the Headmaster's ticking eyebrow at that. The implication was not lost on Harry as he quickly raised his hands in a soothing gesture. "Don't worry about any damages like _that_ just yet! The most that we're intending to do this summer to give our disciples a crash course in how to tap into their inner powers while also raising their physical strength and stamina. So, basically just a lot of soul searching and physical exercises."

"That's all?" Dumbledore asked, sounding and looking rather surprised. He had been fully expecting having to deal with upwards of three dozen teenagers who possessed highly-potent and varied magic. Perhaps not on par with Harry himself, but definitely a few steps below.

Humming in acknowledgement as he nodded, Harry gave him a grin that almost seemed mischievous. "Our teaching methods are very different from yours, old man. Where you would have them sitting at a desk all day waving a little stick about while spouting gibberish magic words, my training is much more…demanding. Running, jumping, wrestling, swimming, we learn through _doing_ , not reading. Which means that my disciples can only learn their magic through their own dedication and effort, so there's no way of knowing just how powerful they could be when they return to you."

"I see," Dumbledore murmured.

This was both good and bad news for him. It meant that he likely wouldn't have to worry about so many of his students returning with super-magic. In fact, given how focused and dedicated most teenagers tended to be, the number of such students with such magic would likely be comparatively small. And, to make matters even easier for him, given that they'd have had such limited (if any) success, that meant that it could be a simple matter of bringing them back away from this dangerous path. But on the other hand, those few that did achieve this, they could become a force to be reckoned with at Hogwarts and even he didn't know how such powerful teenagers would affect the Hogwarts House politics.

"What of their parents and families?" Dumbledore asked, pressing on the other big issue he'd wanted to discuss. "As far as I can understand, this summer school of yours is like Hogwarts, where you are providing them with food and housing during their stay. And since you've scheduled it to last all summer, that means that most, if not all, of the students are not going to be allowed to spend any time with their families."

"That's true," Harry admitted, a saddened look on his face as he nodded. "But there's nothing we can do about that. If we allowed them to go home, we would lose potential training time for our disciples and we're unwilling to do that. But we do have a means of allowing them to keep in touch. The Muggleborns will have access to phones to call their homes and the Purebloods can write letters that we'll see get delivered to the disciple's home Ministry for distribution."

"You aren't worried about the Ministries reading their letters?" Dumbledore asked, quirking his brow again.

"Nope!" Harry chirped, his carefree smirk once again in full prominence. Before Dumbledore could speak again, a ringing chime filled the air. Harry quickly tapped his watch's alarm off. "Sorry, that's the bell! Gotta get back to work! See ya later, old man!" With a subtle press of another button on his watch, Harry disappeared in a blur which Dumbledore recognized as Portkey teleportation.

Sighing long and lowly, Dumbledore looked sadly at the spot where Harry had stood. Things were even worse than he'd first thought and there was nothing he could do to stop it at this point. All he could do was wait until school started again and begin the long process of rehabilitating the Potter boy's returning disciples. ' _Somehow, I can already tell that is going to be one splitting headache after another_.' Finally turning away, he headed over to where the 13 washouts all stood waiting in the entrance hall with clear looks of impatience and annoyance. ' _But first, I have to deal with this mess_.'

* * *

( **Author's Note** )Heh, I'm on a roll apparently. Two chapters so quickly after several months of hiatus? Anyway, I hope you guys all enjoyed this chapter and the debates and revelations that occurred within. **_PLEASE REVIEW!_ ** I _DESPERATELY_ want to know what each of you think about Harry and Dudley's unveiled training regime! Did it catch any of you by surprise? How do you think it'll work out? Got any ideas you'd like to share or see happen in the next few chapters as a result of the partnerships that took place here? Like I said before, **_PLEASE REVIEW_**!

On another note, I would like to announce that I posted a pair of pictures on my DeviantART page to better illustrate the Training Camp's layout and location. If any of you are interested, of course.

And finally, I know there's likely some confusion about the exact number of disciples that have been chosen, so down below is a small graph to show how many Ki- and Chi-Disciples there are. Also, in case you didn't figure it out yourself, that big show that Harry and Dudley put on during the Triwizard Tournament and the ICW meeting was the last of a series of recruitment tours they'd been taking in the past year.

50 Hogwarts -/-/-/-/-/-/-50 England  
20 Beauxbatons -/-/-/-/-40 France  
60 Durmstrang -/-/-/-/-/-50 Russia  
10 Non-affiliated (ie. Tom, Nikki)  
50 Japan -/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-60 Japan  
+40 America -/-/-/-/-/-/-/-30 America  
=230 Chi-Adepts -/-/-/-/-230 Ki-Adepts


	11. Bonding over Agony

**.**

 **The Magic Revolution**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
Co-Authored by: Fiori75  
 _#11: Bonding over Agony_

 **July 1, 2015  
** **Training Camp  
** **Unknown Location [Sværholt Peninsula, Norway]**

Ningen. The crazy fool of a gaijin was 'training' ningen!

Noriko had expected many things when she had signed her contract on behalf of her family, but the idea of Ningen being anywhere near as capable of even half of what the Salamander and the Saiyan were capable of was absurd. She had almost protested, but only a desire to not be associated with the likes of Britain's Junketsu had stopped her. Yet even with her desire to differentiate herself from the chattel of his homeland, Noriko was finding herself hard-pressed to stay. At every step, her target seemed to relish trampling upon her pride. First with stripping her bare so many years ago, and then with divesting her of her symbol of allegiance to her clan. He had even gone so far as to mark her with _his_ symbol!

If not for the very good fact that her clan absolutely needed him, Noriko would have already abandoned her quest and returned home. But to do so would be a wound greater still than any inflicted upon her by this mad quest. Defeat was not something she would ever willingly accept, especially a defeat that could not be later overturned. It was for that reason she had consented to his demands at every turn. It was the path that would eventually lead to him broken before her, and she would _relish_ that moment all the more for the suffering he was putting her through.

However, it was not _just_ that he was crazy enough to ignore over four hundred years of conventional magical wisdom by training ningen. No, that made him simply insane, something Noriko had experience dealing with. What really, truly grated on her nerves, was the young man who stood before her, smirking with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

"So, the _disgraced_ Shimazu-hime finally reappears, _here_ of all places. And here I thought this bastard couldn't get any crazier ," the teen smirked at her, his yellow and slightly-slitted eyes boring into her golden gaze. It was a paltry attempt at intimidation that, when mixed with his tall and burly frame, might have been intimidating… If not for the fact that as a Takeda cur of a cat, Mutsu was as intimidating as a wet noodle to a proud Ryuchi of the Shimazu.

"Yes, he is indeed a fool. But then, what does it say about your lot in life, that your clan would seek the aid of a _mad ryuchi_ , hmm? I, at least, have the excuse of needing to pay him a beating, and a most thorough one at that. You, however? What _possible_ reason would a Torachi(1) have for following in the shadows of a dragon? Tell me, did you perhaps see something _shiny?_ " Noriko fired back, a combative smirk working its way across her features. Barb after barb she carefully dug into the older teen, for no other reason than he had presented himself as a decent outlet for her mounting frustrations. He had started the confrontation, so it was only right that she _finished it_. That he was a Takeda just added to the fun, and gave her more material to work from.

"You damn well know why I'm here, why all sev- I'm sorry _eight_ of us clan heirs are doing here ," Mutsu said, as if only now remembering to include her in his count. "We're here because there is a brand new Ryuchi wandering in lands not a single sane Ketsuen-sha would ever dare to tread. What do you _think_ we're after? What I'm after?! At least I have less of a selfish reason than you! For the future of my clan, I will get the Ketsueki Shōten. Can a disgraced outcast like you say the same thing, or is this some sad attempt to worm your way back into your father's good graces? "

There, were many things wrong with what the cur said. For one, he had completely ignored the presence of her entire retinue, a luxury that he completely lacked, as did all six of the other heirs. At most, they had a single attendant, if they had anyone by their side at all.

For another, the poor cur didn't know how foolish and pointless a quest he'd embarked on. In fact, not a single clan heir besides herself knew just what a fool's errand they'd embarked on. This dragon was altogether different than anything they'd ever encountered. His origins being something more miraculous than even the tallest of the old tales their Baachan had ever told. The kindest thing she could have done was to quickly crush the Takeda fool's hopes and dreams, however he had said something all the more wrong.

The greatest _**wrong**_ spoken by the flee-bitten cat was when he had dared to imply that Noriko was some kind of an _outcast_! That she, the wielder of Namikiri, was more concerned with personal revenge than the future of her clan?! For that, she would let him suffer still, to continue to hope that his clan had a future. So, the despair he'd feel as the truth came to be known would be all the more crushing, especially when she had an ace already to play.

"Then, it is too bad for you all then that this fool has already sworn to return to Satsuma with me, and mine. Such a shame that you came here, for nothing at _**all**_." Noriko smirked, quite happy by the look of shock that her information crossed the cat's features. In fact, the look was shared by all those present, to varying degrees. Yet it was not the Takeda cur that voiced their shock.

"What?!" Surprisingly, it was a rather small girl who spoke first, cutting off whatever angry rebuttal that the cat was bound to embarrass himself with. As Noriko turned her eyes to the new speaker, the very first thing she noticed was just how very _small_ she was, barely even scrapping the height of five feet. The next things Noriko noticed was the petite girl's short crop of crimson, almost feathery hair and soulful golden eyes. Eyes that while they mirrored her own in color, they contained none of the predatory edge that her own did. Rather her eyes conveyed calm and peace to such a degree that Noriko could not help but feel at ease looking into them. Such stupidly innocent and kind eyes were all she needed to identify the girl as a Ho-ochi(2) of the Kitora.

"Harry-san would never do that! He wouldn't just abandon all of us, especially after we came all this way!" the Kitora spoke passionately, yet somehow failing to convey any form of the anger she must have felt. The curse of having a voice naturally inclined to the melodic tones of song.

"Did you not hear me, little bird? That fool has extended me his _promise_ to aid my clan, as is proper." Noriko smirked at the slip of a girl, even as she tried to draw herself up in an even more pathetic attempt at intimidation than the Takeda. " Unless you are calling me a liar. Or perhaps you are calling him such. Fool and idiot that he is, he is at least somewhat honorable."

"I would never doubt him! You however… you have to have tricked him somehow."

"Yeah! That's probably what it is!" the Takeda cur agreed, finally recovering his voice. "What lies have you told him?! My father told me that the boy was open-minded and free-spirited to a fault! The only way you could've gotten such a promise from him is if you lied to him! Orrrrr…" he trailed off as a disgusted sneer crossed his face. "Did you have to _sell yourself_ to him? I hear that many fools lust after dragonspawn for some reason."

Immediately, Noriko's hackles were raised, along with her entire retinue.

"Takeda-san, please don't be vulgar!" Tsubasa cried, stepping between him and the Shimazu before the dragons could unleash their fury. Turning back to them, she smiled sweetly, enchantingly up at them. "What _really_ happened, Shimazu-san? "

"It was rather simple actually, all I had to do was actually talk to him. It appears that despite all of you knowing him, none of you were forthcoming about _why_ you're all actually here. I, however, was forthright about my intentions, and the invitation for training came after." Noriko smirked as her news shocked the smile off the Kitora's face. Her own smirk grew to truly predatory levels as another thought occurred to her, " Considering that the fool had never even heard of the Ketsueki Shōten before I spoke with him, should I not be accusing the whole lot of _you_ to be the liars? At the very least, you are certainly here under false pretenses."

"What did you say!?" the Takeda scion growled, the sound far more animal than man.

"It's quite simple really, though I'm not surprised that a simplistic feline like yourself can't parse my meaning. So, I shall use small words in the hopes that you understand." Noriko could see his muscles tensing at her words, he was seconds away from attacking. All she needed was a tiny push more and then she could demand satisfaction in the ring, or even see him leave with his tail tucked between his legs. "None of you are here to better yourselves. You are all here to worm your way into his good graces in the hopes that he will grace your clans with his aid. Indulging in his training while praying that somehow if you jump through enough hoops you'll win his favor and be blessed with what you want. But did none of you hear how he spoke? Of his desire to see each and every one of his students; ningen, Ningen no chi, Junketsu, or Ketsuen-sha become the best they can be?"

"You can't mean…" she could see it when the notion finally percolated through the cur's brain. The moment he grasped her meaning, the look of shock was made all the sweeter by her final blow.

"Indeed, he agreed to help me because I actually _**had selfish reasons**_." Noriko whispered in glee as she turned his earlier insult to her back upon him. " Why else do you think he allowed a full complement of Shimazu clansmen to accompany me while you all have but a single attendant? Because we are here for both ourselves _and_ our clan. "

She could see the rage build in his face, the damage to his ego as his own words were so effortlessly turned against him. So enraged was he that Mutsu didn't even bother trying to hide the tension in his shoulders. He was seconds away from swinging at her, and if not for a timely intervention probably would have.

"Um, for those of us who don't speak the mother tongue. Translation, please?" Noriko's ningen partner asked as she stepped foolishly between a Tiger and a Dragon about to come to blows. If nothing else, Noriko could respect her backbone. Even as she questioned the girl's survival instinct.

"Sorry, but it looks like you guys are about to rearrange each other's faces," Heather said bluntly. The Ki-Disciple was a tall, dark-haired girl with Asian features, given that her father was a Japanese emigrant. But where Noriko's figure was bountiful with alluring curves in all the right places, Heather Kimura was quite lean with only a modest bust, who would have said that her most fetching quality was her well-shaped bum, had anyone cared to ask her such. As the British-born ningen finished her little speech, she shot Noriko a grin with a strange gleam in her eye, "And far be it from me to let my partner have all the fun!"

"Are who you?" Takeda demanded, his broken grasp of English matching Noriko's estimates of his intellect. Yet any amusement she might have derived was soured by his expression of repressed anger. "You want be hurt too?"

"Name's Heather Kimura and Noriko is my partner, asshole!" Heather declared challengingly.

"Stupid defending, break you in way," he growled back, his arms rising to his side in an aggressive stance, signaling his willingness to pounce.

"Bring it, ya pussy!" Heather smiled back, her legs sliding into readiness.

"Oi! You lot, what'd we just say about fighting amongst disciples. Save it for the fucking ring!" a voice like cannon blast roared with enough force to make even Heather wince at the volume.

There stood the fool's cousin, flanked by both Piers and Dennis.

"Heh, I'd have thought, Ryuu-hime, that you'd at least wait until you recovered from today's thrashing before you started picking _another_ fight," Piers' said, smirking.

"Please don't listen to them, we'd actually prefer it if you _didn't_ fight right now. We've already had to send people home. Save all fights in the ring until at least this weekend." Dennis' gentle voice interjected.

"Yeah, yeah. What the tank said, save the fighting till later," Dudley agreed with a much put-upon sigh, crossing his arms as he gazed at the gathered clan heirs. His eyes pausing momentarily when he reached the petite Kitora. "Yo, Tsubasa-san, good to see you again. Glad to see you took my cousin's advice. How's that working for ya?"

"Ah, Dudley-san. I've been training hard… Do you think that he'd be happy to see me here?" she smiled shyly, a look of longing on her face as she hesitantly asked the second question.

Noriko, for her part, could only stare as a new piece of information slotted itself into place. _This_ was the gal that fool of a gaijin had mistaken her for?! How could he possibly…? The only thing that was remotely similar about them was the fact that the both of them had golden eyes. And even that was a stretch, considering the sheer difference between the eyes of a Kitora and the eyes of a Shimazu. How?! Just how could that _idiot_ possibly make such a stupid mistake?!

Yet before Noriko could voice both her confusion and indignation for the insult of being mistaken for a Kitora, the angry and utterly animalistic growl from the Takeda cur interrupted her thoughts.

Snarling and growling like the pitiful animal he was, Takeda Mutsu stalked forward. Ignoring the Kitora girl and the Saiyan, he took a stance in front of Noriko and jabbed a finger up into her face as he loudly declared, "Come this weekend, I challenge you, Shimazu! And when I beat your scaly ass into the dirt, you will go to Harry-san and have him _renounce_ his 'promise' to you! The Takeda clan has waited for _too long_ for this chance! "

Noriko irritably reached up and swatted the boy's hand from her face. Glaring at him, she calmly asked, "And what do I get when _I_ win? "

As Mutsu momentarily floundered, clearly having not even considered the _possibility_ that he could lose, Tsubasa piped up helpfully, " How about he has to admit his _inferiority_ to you and serve as your... _attendant_ for a week after we all go home? "

" _NO!_ " Mutsu immediately roared, glaring hotly at Tsubasa, who met his glare with an impish grin. " _I WILL NEVER—!_ "

"That's a good idea, Tsubasa-san," Noriko said, smiling at the Kitora beauteously. Ignoring Mutsu as he snapped his glare back onto her, she continued, "Very well, I shall accept these terms." Looking over at Dudley, who had been watching the argument with a wide grin, she asked, "Are these terms acceptable for the challenge, Dudley-san?"

"Yes, yes, indeed!" Dudley said, nodding in acquiescent, much to Mutsu's rising horror. "I'll go tell Harry about this and we'll open a time slot on Saturday, say...10am sharp!"

Noriko nodded, smiling at Mutsu, though it was also as a means of hiding her own slight unease. After all, for as skilled as she was, even she held slight reservations for entering a duel against a Takeda, let alone the Takeda heir himself. But she refused to let any of that show on her face as she said, "I'll be waiting for you, Takeda-san."

As both Noriko and Mutsu turned from one another, Heather followed in her footsteps with a confused smile upon her lips.

"So, I didn't understand a word of that either. But you're going to kick his ass, right, Noriko?"

"I do not recall giving you permission to address me so familiarly, Kimura-san."

"Aww, don't be like that, Noriko. S'not like this is Japan, after all. Besides, we have all summer to get to know each other. So, what's a name between _partners?_ "

For some reason the emphasis that the other girl put on the word 'partners' filled Noriko with more dread than even the prospect of losing to Takeda Mutsu. After all, even if she lost there, all that could happen was he would have his hopes crushed under the realization that the Gaijin was a one of a kind super-idiot who had nothing to offer but the soul-crushing realization that they'd all embarked on a fool's errand. Somehow, this strange familiarity seemed worse.

* * *

 **July 2, 2015**  
 **5:30am**

 _ **KRK-BMMMM!**_

A titanic explosion in close proximity immediately awakened all of the sleeping people within their dormitories. **_BBBMMMM!_** BBBMMM! _KRKKK_ - _BBMMMMMM!_

The wizard teens were all confused and somewhat scared, the normal teens weren't much better but did have a better idea of what the noise was, the various martial arts masters took the noise in stride as they easily awakened and started preparing for their day, but the four Drill Sergeants immediately leapt out of their beds and rushed outside to identify the source of the explosion.

The following explosions gave them an idea where the threat was. Unlocking the east gates, the four men were knocked backwards off their feet as the gates unexpectedly slammed open from a powerful blast of air pressure. Picking themselves off the dirt and two of them wiping a little blood from their bleeding noses, the military men rushed forward outside, only to stop and stare somewhat in surprise.

The numerous explosions weren't mortars or gunfire or anything that they were expecting. Instead, it was the two boys they were here to aid and research. They seemed to each be having a spar with two of their disciples each. The sergeants hadn't known any of the pair's disciples long enough to know their names, but they were certainly giving their all to win. All of them were blurring in and out of sight all across the empty field as they clashed with fists, feet, or energy blasts.

Grunting in amusement, George Benning of America turned and started walking back towards the dormitories, muttering to himself. "This is much better than a bugle horn to wake up to."

The other Sergeants lingered for a moment before turning to follow their compatriot. Date Yoshimaru of Japan, who was looking much more awake and had a rising smile upon his face, said heavily accented English, "We should get started on our part before the kids try to sleep in."

"Oui," Bernard Marais of France agreed, speaking in somewhat choppy English. "Most of the magical children are pampered with a sense of entitlement. They will fight us constantly. Best we get started now."

Grimly, the other three Sergeants nodded in agreement. They turned cold, hard gazes upon the two dormitories, where several moving figures could be seen through darkened windows. Splitting up, two of them headed up into the boys' dorm while the other two marched into the girls, all of them barking and bellowing commands as they would any new army recruits they would've been training back in their home countries. Much to Yoshimaru's prediction, several of the wizards did try to go back to sleep and the Sergeants were forced to literally drag them out of their beds by limb or hair, whichever was more convenient or if the disciple in question irked them the wrong way.

After ten minutes of this, the Drill Sergeants had gathered their sleepy trainees outside the west gates of the camp. Using time-honored methods of subtle psychological intimidation to instill a fearful respect of themselves into the teens, they divided the 500 disciples into four groups of 125, who they each took command of and directed to different parts of the various training grounds. In a way, the boys' creation of the Chi- and Ki-Disciple partnership actually helped the Drill Sergeants save time and they were able to get started on their usual morning exercises and stretches a fair bit sooner than they'd expected.

As he was observing the disciples, Robert Kingsley of Wales couldn't help getting somewhat confused. It wasn't the training itself. It wasn't the discomfort of the Chi-Disciples as they were put through their first real physical training ever. It wasn't the subtle antagonism he could see bouncing between them as quite a few of the Ki-Disciples started taking a bit of offense from their partners' attitudes. And it wasn't even the cold air and how it was affecting everyone. It was something else. He could feel it, ever since he got here, like some kind of…lead weight pressing down on him. At first, he ignored it because it wasn't really affecting him but now he was forced to reevaluate it as he went through and led the exercises alongside the disciples.

Something was…different here. Whatever it was, it was causing him to get tired much more quickly than he was accustomed to. As a very active trainer, Robert was keenly aware of his own body's limitations and abilities. He knew exactly how many pushups and sit-ups it would take for him to start getting that familiar burn in his arms, shoulders, and body. He knew how fast he could run at full sprint and how far he could go while doing so. He also knew how long he could keeping running at a steady pace before losing his breath and needing a cooldown. Thanks to this deeply personal knowledge of his own self, Robert was finding himself somewhat puzzled over why he was already starting to feel that burn as exhaustion quickly started seeping in after less than a half hours' time.

And he wasn't the only one to notice this either. All of the other Drill Sergeants and the various martial arts teachers who'd decided to partake in this wakeup exercise had also quickly started taking notice as well. But they didn't mention it to anyone else, just keeping their suspicions to themselves. The disciples, however, were blissfully unaware of this as they struggled to keep pace with their instructors' repetitions.

"Come on, Tommy!" an exuberant young voice encouraged, sounding way too cheerful for the young man's liking. "You can do it! Just one more!"

Tom spared his new partner an annoyed, even somewhat angry, glance as his badly shaking arms trembled from the effort of pushing him off the ground. Seeing his almost glare, the 13-year-old blonde girl sent him a wide, encouraging smile that he could've sworn caused her to glow with happiness. Eh, it must've been a trick of the slowly rising morning sunlight. Refocusing his concentration, he finally managed one last jolt of strength through his arms to lock his elbows straight and pushed himself back up into the ready position. As soon as he did, his arms buckled and he collapsed on the ground, red-face, sweating, and heaving for air.

"Great work, Tommy!" the girl cheered happily. "You managed 48 pushups! That's gotta be a record for you, eh? Don't worry, though! In a few weeks, I'll have you breezing through those 48 in less than minute and you'll be able to punch out over 500 in five minutes!" Somehow, Tom _seriously_ doubted that claim.

"Leave me…alone, Jessica," he groaned out, managing to somehow find the strength to roll himself over onto his back. "It's too…early for…all this…Just want…bed!"

" _Wow_ , I sure picked a _lazy_ partner," Jessica Walters stated bluntly. "And call me 'Jesse,' will you?! I _hate_ 'Jessica'! It makes me sound like a brat!"

"You _are_ …brat," Tom couldn't stop himself from growling back.

Immediately, Jessica's eyes widened in shock as she turned to gawk down at him. Her hand came up to cover her mouth as a gasp slipped out. Then, shortly afterwards, her eyes started watering as her shoulders started shaking. "WAAH! My partner's a big meanie! WAAAAH!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Tom immediately cried out, feeling unbelievably uncertain and awkward as he watched the little girl start bawling. Feeling inexplicably rejuvenated, he sat up and lightly grasped her shoulders in a comforting manner as he continued, "I didn't mean anything bad by it! Please stop crying!"

Then, like a switch had been thrown, her tears vanished and her crying stopped as she looked up and shot him another wide grin. "Tommy's so nice! Thank you!"

As he realized just how badly he'd been fooled by this slip of a girl, the lithe little thing suddenly sprang forward and wrapped herself around his sweaty torso in a tight hug. Tom could only sigh in annoyance as he looked down at the growth that was his partner clinging to him. It was almost exactly in this same position that he'd become acquainted with her the previous day and had been informed that he was now her partner 'for the rest of their lives' as she'd put it. Sighing again, he rubbed her little head for a moment, before pushing her off him and switching positions to count and monitor her pushups.

Similar scenes as these played out across the numerous fields as the Chi- and Ki-Disciples really started getting to work and acquainted with one another.

* * *

 **Dining Hall, Rec Tower**

Unlike what most of the magic students were accustomed to, breakfast that morning was eaten quickly and with very little attention devoted to gossip. Everyone was physically exhausted and positively starving, so no one really had the energy to spare on idle chatter.

Keeping true to their earlier declarations, the young trainers had divided their disciples into two groups, each taking command of one, and began a short series of short meditation sessions. Those sessions were truly heaven-sent, as far as all of the disciples were concerned. Even if they didn't quite understand how to properly meditate yet, and despite the boys being somewhat…incoherent with their instructions in _how_ to meditate, the ability to just sit around and rest their weary bodies and muscles was reward enough.

Of course, sadly, that relaxation period didn't last long enough, only an hour. After that, through means that none of their disciples truly understood how, Harry and Dudley then divided the Chi-Disciples between the various martial arts sensei, citing that certain people were clearly more inclined towards a specific fighting style. In some cases, like Hermione Granger and Aikido, the chosen style proved to be a perfect match. In others, like Draco and Boxing, it seemed a little…unlikely, but the boy was willing to give it a try. And in certain special cases, like Tom and Nikki, the disciple was assigned several sensei to study under. Tom had been given American Kickboxing, Kempo, and Muay Thai, whereas Nikki would learn Boxing and Karate.

For the Chi-Disciples, this was not only the most interesting, but also the strangest part of the training they'd yet undergone. Why did it matter how they held their bodies, positioned their arms, held their hands in fists or open-palmed, knees bent slightly or deeply? It was confusing, but their mostly Asian instructors were seasoned trainers and were able to coax even the reluctant ones into following their instructions with just as much success as the drill sergeants earlier that morning. By contrast, the Ki-Disciples took to the training with no complaints and constantly tried to encourage their partners, with varying degrees of success.

And now, after close to four hours of 'forms trainings', the collected mass of disciples and sensei were once again gathered in the Rec Tower, sitting down to a much-deserved meal. Unlike breakfast, this meal was much more animated, many of the kids and teenagers excitedly comparing their training to their companions or discussing how it differed from what they did back home. A lot of the Chi-Disciples were reluctant to partake in the conversations with their partners, even when they were asked blatant questions by people who had mostly been nothing short of encouraging and friendly towards them.

Well, most of them were reluctant…

"Sorry but I forgot your name, and I don't think I got around to telling you mine either." Hermione stated, almost absently adding the last part as they settled down at their table across from one another "So, I'm Hermione Granger." She said politely to the younger redhead who slightly reminded her of that poor girl who'd died at the tail end of her second year.

"Name's Mafalda Prewett and, yeah, me name sucks. Comes from having a wizard raised da name you while your ma is too hopped up on epidurals to tell him no. So, just call me 'Fall' and I won't shave you in your sleep, m'kay?" the now named Mafalda said with a grin that had Hermione paling with recognition.

"You're a – ?" Hermione began.

"Squib? Yeah, least that's what I am according to me da. Though, he wasn't too clear on it either, being a Squib himself," the girl rapidly interrupted her.

"Eh…I _was_ going to say 'Weasley,' but that also clears that up, thank you," Hermione said hesitantly now looking at the girl uncertainly. The word 'Squib' had automatically triggered memories of a bitter caretaker stalking and grumbling through the halls of her school during her education.

"Weasley? Think me da's got a second cousin by that name," Fall admitted, cocking her head slightly to the side in thought. "We don't talk about them much, though."

Elsewhere in the Dining Hall, Draco was finding himself at something of a loss as he idly chewed on a piece of carrot, staring over at his _Muggle_ ("And _proud_ of it!") partner. The guy was named Darren Jackson from Durham, England. As with most of the other Muggles present, he was solidly built with quite pronounced muscles and wide shoulders. He had dark brown eyes and his hair, what little there was left on his head from a recent buzzcut, was black.

"You really don't wanna eat that," Draco said stiffly, looking pointedly down at the red hot pepper that his partner had just placed in his sandwich. It wasn't that he cared what happened to Darren's taste buds, but he just didn't want to put up with the Muggle complaining when the inevitable happened afterwards.

"What? Why's that?" Darren asked, his hand still held over his sandwich as he'd just finished placing the bread and making it.

"That is a hot pepper grown in a wizard's garden," Draco stated, rolling his eyes when he saw the lack of understanding in Darren's face. "Food grown under the influence of magic have certain…enhanced flavors that Muggles, like you, are ill-suited to deal with."

"You mean a hot pepper, grown by a wizard, becomes a _hot_ -hot pepper?" Darren asked, a burgeoning grin spreading across his face, which only further widened at Draco's nod. Humming in anticipation, he licked his lips as he brought the sandwich up to his mouth. " _Hmmm_ , now that sounds _tasty!_ "

Draco couldn't help gawking in surprise and no small amount of awe at his partner's fearlessness – and foolishness – as he watched him take a massive bite out of the sandwich, pepper and all. Just as Draco predicted, within barely five seconds of chewing, Darren's face took on a distinctive red as sweat started beading and running down his brow as the pepper's magically enhanced flavor reached his tongue. Somehow, through sheer willpower, he muscled the partially-chewed mouthful down his throat, dropping his sandwich on his plate in the process and panting heavily afterwards with small tongues of fire puffing out his mouth.

"Dude! That pepper was _hooooot!_ " Darren gasped out, awe and surprise evident in his voice. Clearly, he hadn't truly understood exactly how much magic boosted the spices in the vegetable.

Despite himself, Draco couldn't stop himself from quietly snorting out, "Wimp!"

"Wimp?" Darren repeated, giving Draco a slightly crossed look. "Oh, you think you can handle it?"

"Of course, I can!" Draco boasted immediately. "I'm a Wizard! And Wizards are superior to Muggles in every way possible!"

"Really? Why don't you put your mouth where your _mouth_ is?!" Darren asked, pushing a jar of the same hot peppers over towards the blonde challengingly.

Sneering arrogantly at Darren, Draco reached into the jar and grabbed three peppers from it, idly shaking some of the juices of them as he brought them out. And with a simple "Okay!", he bit into all three of them at once, chewing and swallowing them quickly. "See, I don't even have to dilute them in a sandwich like you do!"

Darren just gawked at him for a second before a knowing grin spread across his face. Before Draco could ask what he was grinning about, a terrible, _terrible_ burn starting quickly spreading across his tongue, through his mouth, and down his throat. Immediately, his face turned red as he started panting heavily like a dog. He tried clamping his mouth shut, refusing to cry out in rising pain as the burn inside turned to full-blown fire!

Seeing his partner turning even redder than he himself had, Darren felt a spike of worry. "Mate? You okay over there?"

" _ **AARRGGGHHH!**_ " Draco screamed out, having quickly lost his will to hold it in as the fire escalated into an inferno, fires quite literally spewing out of his mouth and steam out of his ears as the inferno worked its diabolical magic. His fiery scream quickly got the attention of his nearby Slytherin brethren, but he didn't even notice their critical gazes.

Lunging forward, Draco grabbed the nearest pitcher of water he could reach and immediately started chugging it for all he was worth. But it _wasn't_ enough! The pitcher was drained dry sooner than he'd liked, but it didn't help! In fact, it just made the inferno _worse!_ Frantically, he grabbed up a discarded plate and started fanning him mouth. _Still not enough!_ Desperate for _anything_ to distract him from the agony in his mouth, Draco did perhaps the least graceful thing he'd ever done and started slamming his face into the table, hoping the pain of a bruised forehead would give him just a _little bit_ of relief.

"Hold on, mate!" Darren said urgently, quickly grabbing up a bottle of ketchup. Catching Draco's flailing head, he forced up his mouth and jabbed the ketchup bottle opening inside, squeezing the bottle and sending a large spray of the tomato sauce inside. Darren could quite literally see the affects the ketchup was having on Draco as red-hot flaming flesh started sizzling and cooling, letting soft puffs of steam hiss out. Once the boy's mouth was fully doused in the stuff, Darren released his hold on the slightly dazed boy, letting him practically collapse back into his chair with all-too-visible relief painted over his face, moaning softly in relieved joy.

Now that the crisis was averted, Darren sat back down in his own chair with a wide grin again. "So, how'd that taste, mate?"

" _Delicious!_ " Draco hummed, grinning impishly, challengingly, as he rubbed his chest in symbolic joy of a well-loved meal. "Too bad _you_ can't say the same!"

"Well, mate, let's see about that!" Darren shot back, grinning deviously. Grabbing the pepper jar, he pulled out all of the remaining peppers and handed half of them over to Draco. "The one who eats all of his peppers, _completely_ , is the winner!"

"And the loser has to bow down and admit his _inferiority_ to the winner!" Draco added, holding up his own peppers in preparation.

"On three!" Darren instructed, mirroring Draco's actions. "One! Two! Three!" A few seconds later, twin shouts of identical burning agony could be heard throughout the Dining Hall as the area around them filled with fire and steam.

Much later, Draco would look back on this moment and realize that it had been the first time he'd had a real, honest-to-magic good time having fun with another person. That it was a muggle of all people who managed to worm his way through a decade and a half of Pureblood conditioning only made the memory stand out even more. And it would also be this same moment of comradery and shared pain between the partners that would forever change his life thereafter.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : HAPPY THANKSGIVING, 2017! This is my little gift to all of you! I hope you enjoyed it!

I admit that I glazed over the details of their initial training, but honestly it was the primary source of my little block these past two months. I wanted to show a bit more of the actual training, but when I got down to write it...it just didn't click. I've tried powering through it, but nothing helped. So, as a bit of compensation, I tried to make this a bit more of a fun filler chapter. We really need to applaud **Fiori75** since he actually wrote the bulk of this chapter, with the Japanese contingent scene.

Here's a bit of fun trivia: who can guess what the inspiration for the Draco/Darren scene was originally came from?

(1) Torachi – tiger blooded, a specific type of noble line in Japanese magical society  
(2) Ho-ochi – phoenix blooded, a specific type of noble line in Japanese magical society


	12. Dragon vs Tiger! Clash of Opposites!

**.  
The Magic Revolution**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
Co-Authored by: Fiori75  
 _#12: Dragon vs. Tiger! Clash of Opposites!_

 **July 2, 2015  
** **Training Camp**

Mornings, thankfully, were a strangely routine kind of hell. One where she was, oddly enough, _not_ their particularly favorite toy for amusement. No, that honor went to whichever fool was dumb enough to open his stupid face. Naturally, the Junketsu volunteered, quite frequently. The most memorable incident had occurred quite early on in the training.

"White! Black! White! Black!" the chorus chant of dozens of exhausted voices echoed around the running track. The sight that any outside observer would've seen would've been one of utter ridiculousness but also genuine sympathy for those involved.

Currently, one of the morning groups of disciples were taking a rather leisurely jog around the three-kilometer-long running track. What set this apart from any other running exercise was just what half of the runners were dragging behind them. Tied by six-foot lengths of rope around their waists, the black-clothed Chi-Disciples were dragging large truck tires along the ground as they struggled to run at a steady pace. If any of them started to slow down for any reason, the white-clothed Ki-Disciples who were riding on the tires their partners were pulling would whack their backsides with riding crops. The smarter or more dedicated Chi-Disciples were quickly learning how to maintain a steady running pace so as to avoid getting whipped. Although, turnabout was fair play as well, since at every kilometer marker, the partners would trade places and the former runners would take a savage glee in tormenting their former tormentors. For just as the dougi uniforms they were wearing were poorly suited to insulate against the ever-present cold air, so too did they offer minimal padding against the stinging retorts of the riding crops.

Well, that wasn't completely true. A couple of the duos didn't follow this trend of abusing their partners to 'encourage' them to speed up. Some of them, like Neville Longbottom and his partner, only gave light taps on the shoulders or soft words of encouragement. Others just sat back and enjoyed the free ride they were getting as they tried to rest up a little for their next turn. And there were others still that were too busy... _examining_ their partners.

For her part, Noriko was developing a very potent hatred for this exercise, specifically the running part. It wasn't that she didn't approve of the training, how it was executed, and/or the instant punishment that was earned for slacking off. No, the reason she was coming to hate this portion of the training was because of just how **_violated_ ** she felt. She could practically feel Kimura's lustful gaze on her backside, mentally undressing her as she watched her rear swaying as she ran.

"Come on, you lot!" Dudley laughingly yelled at them from his own place behind Harry. "Pick up the pace!"

Unlike their disciples, Harry was pulling an additional two more tires that were loaded with large and heavy statues of the Buddha. And despite them having run countless laps around their disciples, Dudley was taking immense glee in continuously whipping his cousin for slowing down even a tiny fraction of a second, as his near-constant laughter ringing out from behind Harry suggested.

"Du-Du-Dudley!" Cedric called out as loudly as he could from where he was in the middle of the runners.

Despite showing obvious annoyance at having his fun interrupted, Dudley finally ceased his assault on Harry as the Salamander slowed down to run apace with the group. "What is it?"

"Do—we—really—have to—do this?" Cedric gasped out, voicing the question that all the Chi-Disciples had been asking themselves for the past twenty minutes.

"Of course!" Dudley answered bluntly. "Running is an endurance exercise that works the whole body. And the added weight just means you multiply your training by several factors. Why?"

"Isn't—there—another—way?" Cedric asked, inadvertently slowing down somewhat as his attention on his running faltered as he asked his questions.

"Oh? You want to receive the _accelerated_ training regimen?" Dudley asked, his toothy grin going unnoticed by the exhausted young man.

"If—I don't—have to—run—sure," Cedric said. "Is it—some kind—of secret—ancient—training—technique?"

" _No_ ," Dudley barked from where he was now suddenly seated behind Cedric, Cedric's partner having been so swiftly swapped places with that it escaped Cedric's notice. " _Faster **training**_ means _faster **running**_ **!"**

Cedric had only a second to realize the crucial error in judgment he'd made before Dudley unleashed his own whip upon his backside, laughing like a maniac the whole time. Under such an assault, Cedric quickly and easily pulled ahead of the group, screaming in pain, "WILL YOU _STOP THAT! I'M NOT A **HORSE!**_ "

" _ **No!** A **horse** could run **faster!**_ **"** Dudley shouted back, an unholy glow lighting up his eyes as he swung his whip even faster. " _NOW SHUT YOUR **MOUTH** AND **MOVE YOUR LEGS!**_ "

Cedric's screaming of agony was only barely drowned out by Dudley's maniacal laughter as he continued to pull ahead of the main group. All of the other runners could only wince in sympathy while being silently grateful they had been spared such treatment. And this was still only the _start_ of their training!

* * *

Another memorable moment early in their training occurred later that same day, when Noriko and Kimura attended their first sparring lesson.

The first thing Noriko really noticed was Dennis' excitement as he gazed around at the class of ten disciples in front of him. This would be their group's first class with him and, as she would come to learn later, his first class _ever_. He was so excited that he was literally shivering with anticipation. And when a six-foot mass of muscle shivers, one _tends_ to notice.

As she approached their little outdoor training area, Noriko caught the Giant's attention briefly, his eyes lighting up in recognition. For some reason, that little look just sparked an increase in tension to the already taunt coil their supposed instructor had wound himself into.

"Okay, class!" Dennis called boisterously as the five pairs of Chi- and Ki-Disciples lined up in a pair of rows, as the Drill Sergeants were constantly ingraining into them. "My name is Dennis! I've studied wrestling and Muay Thai. And today I will teach you the holy art of sparring!"

"Sparring?" a boy Chi-Disciple with a thick French accent asked. "You mean like…dueling?"

"Yes!" Dennis acknowledged, nodding his head eagerly, much to Noriko's amusement at seeing such energy and passion from the one she'd pegged as a gentle giant. "Sparring is all about putting what you've learned into practice. With no rules and no holds barred!" He strangely reminded her of her cousin, Lee; all heart. That same such sentiment was seemingly shared by all who had come to know the larger teen was not surprising. Thus, despite his passions, all he received for his zeal was a few muffled chuckles.

Looking around at their slightly amused and even exasperated expressions, Dennis saw that they weren't really taking this seriously. Perhaps he needed to change that. Pointing towards Noriko, he beckoned the girl forward. "You! Come! Let's give a small demonstration!"

Hesitantly, with a small sigh of annoyance at being selected _yet again_ , Noriko stepped out of line and moved to stand across from Dennis. Though she was familiar with basic martial arts, her opening Karate stance was quite obviously nervous. This was because it was at this moment that she remembered that while Lee was indeed all heart, one tended to forget that the heart was one of the strongest muscles in the body.

That Dennis paid little mind to her hesitancy as he started pulling at his arms, stretching the muscles and loosening the joints, was expected. His sudden burst of speed, as his limbs blurred out of existence, causing slight gusts of wind to start blowing around him while he made some grunting exclamations? The comparison to Lee was starting to get frighteningly accurate.

His audience all gawked at his sheer speed and obvious strength as Noriko started to sweat.

After several seconds of this, Dennis settled down into a basic Muay Thai guard stance as he smiled serenely over at his opponent. "Okay, my fists are done getting _warmed up_ and am now ready to _fight to the **death**!_ Are you ready?"

In the span of time it took him to blink, his surrounding class had suddenly disappeared. Only Noriko remained, standing awkwardly in front of him, also watching with disgruntled anger and embarrassment as she was left behind. The only hint of the former class's presences were the faint dust trails they'd left behind in their wakes as they fled back to the dojo. Even Kimura had abandoned her!

" _Thanks again, Dennis!_ " one of them shouted back at him, terror clear in their voice. " _But we think we'll train with one of the others! Have fun with Noriko! **Later!**_ "

"Huh?" Dennis uttered in slight confusion while Noriko glared heated after their retreating backs. But, after only a moment's surprise, Dennis just laughed approvingly. " _Wow!_ Look at all that _energy_ they've got!" Then he vanished in pursuit of his wayward disciples, laughing the whole way. "I _knew_ this was gonna be _fun!_ "

Noriko just smirked in satisfaction as she settled back to watch Dennis retrieve his class.

* * *

 **July 3, 2015**

"Come on, Adrian!" Harry said, grinning widely in an encouraging manner. "You can go faster than that!"

"I'm _trying!_ " Adrian Pucey cried out, punching towards the fire wizard with all his speed and strength, and yet still hitting nothing but air as Harry dodged to the side with the utmost ease. "You're too _fast!_ "

"No, you're just slow," Harry countered, still grinning.

Then he stepped forward and thrust his palm forward, slamming the 17-year-old in the stomach with incredible force. The blow was hard enough to cause Adrian to cry out in pain as he was flung off his feet for several meters where he crashed to the cold, muddy ground. As Adrian struggled to climb to his feet and regain his breath, his muggle partner John rushed over and knelt down to try and help him to his feet. Adrian shot John a hateful glare as he knocked his hand away and pushed himself heavily up to his feet by himself.

Harry narrowed his eyes as he caught that movement. But he wasn't able to act on it just yet as he was immediately set upon by another disciple, this time it was a 13-year-old French boy. The French boy led with a flying kick aimed at Harry's side. It was the simplest thing for Harry to step back slightly and catch the boy's leg, turning and throwing the boy in one move towards Adrian and John. This was soon followed by a 16-year-old Russian witch who landed with her ass quite literally in Adrian's face, as per Harry's intention.

Leaning to the side, Harry turned to face Noriko as she swung her fist at him. Turning with him, she swept her leg up in a highkick for his chin. Catching her heel, Harry shot her a cheeky grin as he spun and easily hurled her into the center of the pile.

"Noriko!" Heather cried out, staring after her partner for a second before glaring angrily over at Harry for daring to humiliate and harm her dear friend. Rushing forward, she jumped up and tried to a spinning kick at him. Harry casually leaned back, catching the girl in her abdomen with his foot. Then he smoothly transitioned the kick into a handstand, heaving the girl up and over him, flinging her into the pile with almost mocking ease.

"Go down already!" gravelly voice roared as an angry shadow loomed over the boy.

Harry just smirked as he raised his fist in a half-hearted gesture. The large form of Gregory Goyle essentially impaled himself on Harry's fist, knocking the wind and spit out of his mouth, before Harry tossed him towards the growing pile of defeated disciples before him. Harry started lightly cackling as he watched them once again crumble under the considerable weight of Goyle's flying form. The cherry on top was throwing Goyle's partner Henry on top of _him_ immediately afterwards.

"Hahahah, seeing my precious disciples constantly getting knocked down like that will _never_ get old," Harry commented lightly to himself. But his smile quickly vanished as he heard and saw what was happening before him.

"You shouldn't get so _arrogant_ , Potter!" a familiar platinum-blonde boy barked out as he charged forward with his partner.

Using what little he'd learned from his Boxing master, Draco rushed forward with his arms up in an acceptable defensive posture before he started launching strong jabs as quickly as he could. Normally, Potter would have just swayed and dodged away with all-too-obvious ease, but this time as Draco began his barrage, he stood his ground. Not moving a single step, and not using more than a single arm, Potter blocked and parried his blows not letting even a single strike come near him while continuing to wear that carefree grin on his face. Standing there he weathered the blows, while making _corrections_ to Draco's form. Sharp prods to Draco's joints along his arms, chest, and legs that made him stand just a little firmer and swing a little smoother.

This was something Draco had come to realize Potter did whenever he was reaching the last few students. He'd stop his dodging and begin this maddening type of 'corrective sparring' whenever the mob finally died down and he was engaged individually. Some had hopped that with him glued to one spot they might have a chance at hitting him, just once. None had so far. But hitting Harry wasn't Draco's intention at all. He was doing his utmost to keep the young martial arts master focused on him.

Sparing only the smallest second between punches to see that Darren was in position, Draco suddenly backed away. Harry watched his unexpected retreat with a raised brow. It was in this moment of idle curiosity that Darren attacked, leaping forward with a spinning roundhouse kick. Much to both boys' heavy annoyance and anger, Potter seemed to sense the incoming attack and ducked under the sweeping kick. Before Darren could recover, or even land for that matter, Harry lunged forward with a palm strike between his shoulder blades, sending the boy careening towards Draco uncontrollably. To Draco's credit, though he stepped out of the way, he still reached out a hand to catch Darren and stop him from flying off to land in the pileup behind them.

" _Ha!_ " Harry barked out triumphantly. "Finally! Someone figured out the purpose of this sparring match!"

"What?" Darren asked, looking somewhat confused. "What are you talking about? What purpose?"

"He means that he wants us _partners_ to learn to work _together,"_ Draco said slowly, hesitantly. Clearly, he wasn't quite sure if that was the real reason or not. At least, that's what he hoped it was! "Right, Potter?"

" _Yup!_ " Harry chirped, grinning happily. Turning back to the slowly recovering pile, he called out, "Did you guys hear that?" Of course, this was the point when he actually started listening to the hateful mutterings of the fallen class. And it was in that moment that any joy he might have felt at his lesson _finally_ catching on died a miserable death worthy of one of Idi Amin's more creative days.

"Watch where you're going, filthy mudblood!" "Hey, I was just trying to help—!" "Isabelle! Move your fat ass!" "Shut your mouth, loser!" "Goyle! Get off me!" "Hey, stop shoving me around, you dumbass!" "Potter is so dead!" "Dimitri, stop stepping on me, ya little punk!" "Senpai, so soft..." "Watashi no o shiri kara te o hanashite kudasai!"(1) And those were just some of the tamer comments he could hear coming from them. He just stared at them, fighting and pushing and grappling with one another. The wizards were more interested in attacking their partners than actually trying to climb to their feet, which of course angered their partners into lashing out in retaliation.

"I can't _believe_ the way you're acting right now," Harry growled lowly, his anger spiking, along with his fires starting to burst out of his body. As he continued speaking his voice and the surrounding air temperature rapidly started rising, " _You're supposed to be_ _ **partners**_ _! That means YOU HAVE EACH OTHER'S BACKS_ _ **NO MATTER WHAT!**_ " Leaping high into the air, he spread his arms wide as fires flared to life out of them, forming his Yokugeki wing attack. It was only then that the various quarreling partners noticed the imminent danger they were all in. " _ **AND FIGHT** **YOUR COMMON ENEMY! RRRGGHHHRRR!**_ "

He lobbed his flames down into their midst, almost too fast for them to do anything. Adrian, Noriko, Heather, Isabelle, and Goyle all tried to scramble and dodge. John, Henry, and the French kid Dimitri threw up their hands in a reflexive attempt at shielding themselves. The trio of them had only a moment of shocked surprise when the fires slammed into their hands. Rather than immediately burning them on contact, they could feel the fires writhing, twisting, and moving upon their skin as though it were alive. It was warm to the touch, but it didn't burn. However, after a moment of straining against the onrushing _thing_ they were holding, the fires suddenly emitted a blinding flash of light before exploding spectacularly.

The eruption of flame and noise flared out and quickly drew the attentions of the various other groups of exercising or sparring disciples. But Harry paid them no mind as he landed on the edge of the new crater he'd made, glaring hotly down into it at the burnt and beaten forms of his disciples. Despite the twitching, awkwardly crumpled states they were all in, he could sense that they were all still conscious, if in tremendous pain.

"He's… a demon," one of them gasped out. Ironically, it was a sentiment that _all_ of them agreed with.

"Just so you know," Harry snapped out, crossing his arms angrily as he glared down at them. "If you all had _worked together_ , you _would've_ been able to block that attack just now! _Think about that_ as you crawl back to the infirmary!"

"Well, at least not _all of us_ are complete dunderheads, eh, Potter?" Draco asked, looking somewhat hopeful that he'd get Harry's approval.

 _"Nobody_ likes a _kiss-ass_ , blondie!" Harry shot back as he turned and angrily marched off to find another group to start coaching.

* * *

 **July 4, 2015**

The weekend arrived much faster than Noriko could ever anticipate. Such was the sheer toll of The Fool's regime. It was all she could do most days to stay awake after he oversaw her training. Worse still was the direct personal interest the Salamander and most of his supposedly ningen instructors had taken in her. They _knew_ she was far more skilled at the physical arts than any of her homeland peers, save maybe the cur. Thus, they expected far more from her than any other disciple. Thrice now, she had been called to the fore to act as the sparring partner for practical demonstrations. And, without fail, her two main _teachers_ had pushed her so far and so hard that she'd actually been forced to bare her fangs in frustration at them after she'd momentarily forgotten that these were only practice sessions.

They seemed to want her at the knife's edge, to be better than any other student. Noriko just wished that she knew if this was a reward for her demonstrated skill, or some form of sick punishment for setting their dojo on fire back in London. Some days she felt it was the former, the days when she remembered her father's advice on how to be strong. To train until one sweat blood, and then to push past even that limit. Such training had won her the Namikiri, allowing her to triumph over the honed genius talent of her elder brother. Yet every evening, when she found herself struggling to even crawl into the bed they had provided each disciple, Noriko began to consider it the latter. Perhaps the only silver lining in all this brutal training was the fact that she knew that the cur was receiving an equal share of the treatment with his own instructors and trainers.

Three days in particular stood out to her as almost borderline brutal, and had she had to suffer through the harshness alone she surely would have snapped. She would have felt that she was in some way being singled out more than they already were making her. No, instead she got to deal with the 'best' the gaijin's countrymen could offer...and the ningen.

But for all the grueling training they pushed her and all of the other disciples through, she was at least thankful that it kept her partner busy. Kimora was there alongside her for every grueling second. And as much as the training wore at Noriko, the ningen girl had it worse for her purely human blood. This had the thankful benefit of exhausting the odd British-born girl to the point where she simply collapsed after training, rather than trying to deepen their 'skinship'. The mere way the girl said the word that first day _still_ sent uneasy shivers down Noriko's spine.

The time however was not right to contemplate her touchy partner, no. Now was the time to prepare for battle, her pride was at stake... as was the Gaijin's promise to her. Pride however took precedent.

Standing in front of her was the rogue dragon himself. Dressed in a fresh version of his standard black dougi uniform, Harry sent a knowing grin at her. Then, she noticed his left hand cocked back and primed. Her arms were rising almost in slow motion in reflexive protest and instinct as her personal space was suddenly invaded. Yet as Noriko started to tense, in preparation for whatever blows he might still make, he had already slipped past her. He was moving with speeds greater than she had ever thought possible, faster than his disciple Piers had ever moved their entire fight. Nor was it like that farce of the short scuffle they'd briefly engaged in when she'd raged at him for his sheer stupidity. It made her remember the ease in which the Saiyan had moved to stop her. A blur that had blitzed past every defense she had before, without even noticing the presence of, the iron grip of his bare hand came up to hold back naked steel.

She was barely able to see him as she recoiled away, watching as his fist flickered out lightning fast... No, she realized, not his fist per say, merely his finger is outstretched as he…simply _poked her_? Yes, that was exactly what he had done. The crazed fool had poked her! Three times, once above her heart, then her throat and finally her abdomen. Nor did it seem likely that the crazed idiot was actually going to stop.

Then he slipped behind her, still traveling at that obscene speed. Thrice more she felt the feather-like touches on her back, in a mirror image to the order of Harry's first assault. Then his presence was simply _gone_ , and the absence of her attacker caused her to stumble. Frantically, her eyes roved the room until they alit upon the smiling face of the idiot as he once more stood at her door at ease and simply smiling as if the past few seconds had never happened in the first place. And if not for a sudden and completely inexplicable _lack_ of pain throughout her entire body, she would have felt more inclined to chastise him for his offense.

"Wh-What…was _that_!? " she stumbled over the words as the ache in her muscles and body from the past week inexplicably started easing, and with it a small ache of doubt towards her match.

"Well, we have worked you pretty hard," the boy responded calmly and easily, blessedly ignoring her stammer. "And since this is going to be the first use of the challenge ring, we thought we should make sure both fighters are at their peaks. Dudley told me there was some kind of honor conflict going on for this, so consider this my way of making sure honor gets upheld. Isn't shiatsu wonderful?"

Noriko just stared blankly at him for a few moments in surprise. Surprised that he seemed to know enough shiatsu and it's benefits to use it this effectively. Then, after blinking and visibly collecting herself, she nodded stiffly towards him and stepped past him, heading for the challenge ring.

* * *

Standing among the small crowd of observers along the sidelines were Tom and Draco watching carefully. Draco because the foreign girl who trounced him was about to fight. And he can't help but be curious about the girl. Not just because of the outright violence she brought to bear on him or even her inhuman beauty. Rather, it was a curiosity of her for what they both represented. Over the past few days, when he _wasn't_ being driven into the dirt, Draco had taken to learning about his fellow disciples, particularly the eastern foreigners. What he had learned of the Japanese disciples was… Well, he _still_ couldn't quite wrap his mind around the enormity of what little he'd learned!

That _inhuman_ woman, she was an example of an eastern _noble_. In fact, she was from one of their oldest families. Such was the sheer difference, he realized, that he could not simply call them pureblood because, by the classic definition of European culture, the old families in the Land of the Rising Sun quite simply weren't. Neither of the two fighters in the ring were wholly human. From his understanding, the dragon princess was to be fighting a tiger prince of all things.

That both of the family heirs were referred to as _royalty_ nearly baffled the Malfoy scion. That both of them took some strange sick pride in the _impurity_ of their blood completely shocked him speechless. What sort of straight-thinking wizard or witch took _pride_ in giving up the purity of their blood?! But then he remembered her flames. This Noriko Shimazu had a beauty that rivals a Veela, yet with something almost exactly the opposite of an _allure_. Where the French champion could turn the attention in a room by drawing the interests of all warm-blooded men, this foreign girl exhibited a burning supremacy.

' _An apt wording_ ,' Draco realized. ' _During that fight, she wielded fire in a fashion that_ _ **would have**_ _been surprising if I hadn't seen something like it before. I think I was more shocked that she had such abilities at all. Her power was almost a bloody mirror to what Potter can do_.'

And it was with that final thought that a horrified realization took root in his mind. What Potter had taught himself with inhuman bloody singlemindedness, the clans of Japan had fashioned into their very blood. To Draco's understanding, Potter had essentially transformed himself into a dragon. But this girl was simply _born_ as one due to the inhuman blood in her veins. Two different means, but they each resulted in clearly the same outcome. And that outcome was _**power**_ unlike any ever seen in Europe before! It was utter _madness_. It was sheer _brilliance_. It was a _mad brilliance_ that he found himself having a sudden horrified admiration for. What that might mean for her and the other Japanese after receiving the training this crazed pair was forcing on them, he didn't know. But, in a type of morbid curiosity, Draco couldn't help but want to see what the two methods combined might bring out.

So, with Darren next to him, he watched.

Nearby, a companion of Draco's watched the fight just as intently. Tomaso couldn't help but stare as the two fighters stepped onto the ring. They were moving oddly. It was subtle as they entered. But the moment they hit the ring, their postures became even more open as yet more tension left their forms. Something very strange was going on indeed. The girl that had won Potter's interest was on display again and this would be quite the display too. A duel between two heirs from the land that had captured the interest of his father's destined foe. He wondered at the words that announced this fight. An honor challenge, that this was about more than just some form of dislike that had erupted into violence. That too intrigued him. What were they fighting over precisely? Who had impinged on who's honor? And what sort of prize was on the line? Those thoughts had captured everyone's minds, even a cynical soul such as he was drawn into wondering.

Was this perhaps a fight for some sort of rank amongst those close to Potter? He had seen the focus they had placed on her. They tested her twice as hard because they expected twice as much from her. It was something he remembered fondly from one of the teachers he'd found before his father had come to fetch him. The man had been violent and crazed, yet strange in his almost fanatical disdain for the darker curses. Rather than help Tomaso increase his power using the esoteric and arcane ways he must've known, the man had trained Tomaso instead in simple movement, utility, and efficiency. " _Why bother with the more powerful dark curses?_ _A simple well-placed blast to the head kills them just as dead as the Killing Curse does with less power required_ ," he would say before adding a few more anecdotes.

This man had seen him and his talents, and then had sought to hone them in his own image. And it was through that revelation that he'd realized his _father_ had been trying to do much the same with him. After he'd been found and had felt the cold touch of his _father's_ attention, with the insight given to him by his time with the German assassin, he understood. He was being slowly molded and crafted. But his _father's_ mistake was trying mold him into a simple tool, both in skill set and mind set. And now Potter was doing much the same as the assassin had done for himself with this Shimazu girl. Perhaps this Takeda chap wanted that favored position for himself?

"Alright, listen up, ladies and lads!" Harry called out from where he stood in the center of the ring, glancing between Takeda and Shimazu. "This match will continue until one of you is either surrenders, is unable to fight, knocked out, or knocked from the ring! We will not permit killing or help from outside the ring! Is that understood?!" Both fighters nodded amicably, glaring at each other as they dropped into fighting stances.

Seeing them ready, Harry leapt up and backwards, landing on one of the ring corner posts with an almost dainty grace. Crossing his arms behind his back, he called out, "Begin!

In the ring, Noriko heard the fool's declaration and was already moving, just as the cur did the same. Any doubt Noriko might have had about the bizarre nature of this ring was left behind as it happened, in that instant, as their charges met in the middle, the tiger pouncing and the dragon rearing back to swat him from the air. The ground cracked and the world _tunneled_ as she cut a path towards him, and when she redirected his leaping kick into a slam against the ground shockwaves echoed and the world crumbled into dust around them. And yet, there she and he stood in the center.

His hands dug deep into the ground from halting him from slamming face first into it. 'Ground' was the proper title as well since the part of the ring floor that used to be there was more rubble than ring at this point. Mutsu's hands having finished the work Noriko's charge had done to truly pulverize cubed stone floor tiles into gravel. Her hand limply released his ankle in her shock.

For a moment, there was a shocked silence that echoed throughout every student there. A stillness overtaking everyone there, including the two in ring. Yet as the moment was sinking in, as Noriko became aware of what she had done, she also became aware of _who_ she was trying to do it to.

A Takeda cur.

Specifically, one who was not yet pulp before her might. So, he could obviously take whatever she could dish out. It was a thought that was doubtlessly mirrored within the twisted feline brain of her opponent, as his eyes met hers with a regard that she could only call _hunger_. They both realized what was happening, what it meant. This was the type of power they saw every morning, showcased by a sextet of insane fools that made her family look like models of sanity. Yet here in this ring, it was a power that was in her hands as well as his.

Which meant that _the fool_ might not have been so foolish after all.

With a roar, the Takeda cur launched himself at her again. This time, he came from down low, leading with a rising kick towards her chin. Noriko easily bounced to the side before lashing out with her own kick towards his abdomen. Reacting with reflexives that surprised himself as much as her, Mutsu was able to rebalance himself out of his awkward kicking stance while bringing his arms up to block her kick, and with time to spare.

Surprised again, both opponents bounced away from one another and settled back into their opening stances. This time, rather than attack each other again, they were glancing down at their hands and arms in surprise. Mutsu threw out a series of punches as quickly as he could, causing his fists to blur out of sight for a moment. Noriko meanwhile was flexing her fists, trying to get accustomed to the strange sensation of strength and lightness that had settled upon her. Looking over at her opponent, Noriko smirked as she saw him settle back into his stance again with a wide, cocky grin on his face.

Dashing forward, they each attacked each other with a furious assault of flashing fists and blurring kicks while simultaneously blocking the other's. Roaring out like the tiger he was, Mutsu tried to lever his superior bodily strength against her, launching ever-increasingly heavy blows. Sadly, for Mutsu, Noriko possessed speed and flexibility in spades, easily dodging or redirecting his attacks while dishing out her own. However, his own physical endurance and pain tolerance were quite high, able to simply absorb all of her strikes with ease, something which shocked her slightly since she knew her own blows bore a supernatural heaviness to them that had only been increased by this odd arena.

The cur just might have been something marginally impressive to take those blows so easily and carry through his assault on her. But that very fact was hindering him now as his soft spots were far too guarded to land a blow that could actually hurt him. And death by a thousand cuts was simply not in the cards for any self-respecting Shimazu, let alone the clan's heir.

Breaking away from him, Noriko tried to put some distance between them, trying to gather herself for a different approach to crushing his guard. But Mutsu saw her retreating and rushed after her, much like a tiger pursuing its wounded and fleeing prey. Dropping to the ground and sweeping her foot to the side, Noriko caught by Mutsu by surprise, knocking off his footing just enough for her to jump back a few paces.

The kick had done its job, jarring the Takeda long enough for her to regain herself and begin the attack again. This time she did not approach from the ground as he had, but with a forward leap bringing her heel down towards his head. An intelligent fighter would have dodged the blow, letting her waste the strength of such a flashy move. However, a proud fighter, such as a Takeda fighting a Shimazu, would attempt to take the blow directly, hoping to catch her in the air.

Mutsu rose to meet her, arms crossed over his face in an X just as she knew he would. Which was why she had been focusing inwardly ever since she'd knocked him silly. The Namikiri might be locked away from her, but she was a _Ryuchi_ , Dragon blooded. Fire was in her very veins, and wizards across the globe had been using dragons as foci for millennia. While not as strong as what she could do with her blade, a small flame to his face was all she needed to break his guard

She did not expect the inferno that her kick launched instead. An Inferno Slash that she'd only ever conjured with her sword before, and never before from a kick. And such an attack was headed towards an unarmed Mutsu. Who seemed to realize just what kind of situation he was in, as he tensed up at the coming flames. On anyone else, she'd have said they had been frozen witless, but this cur had been her Nii-sama's rival once before and he was not so easily felled.

Just as she thought the tension in his arms abruptly turned to motion as the air cracked as he uncrossed his arms. A perfect Void Cut was unleashed from his bare arms meeting her Inferno Slash mere seconds after its launch. The explosion the two attacks caused, as Dragon Fire met Mystical Winds, was loud and deafening.

It was also right in front of the two of them. This proved far more problematic for Noriko than it did him as she had been airborne, and thus incapable of bracing herself for any kind of blast. The shockwaves slammed into her with punishing force, but all she could do was guard herself as they sent her flying backwards with remarkable speed. Out of the corner of her eye, Noriko glimpsed the arena's rope ring speeding up underneath her.

Realizing in a split second that she was being knocked out of bounds, she lashed out with her closest limb to it, snagging the uppermost rope with her hooked foot. The movement caused her flight to halt momentarily, leaving her hanging over a small portion of the gawking bystanders. But she didn't have time to worry about them as she started to swing down towards the ground. Throwing her arms back, she managed to grasp the ropes and was hung mere inches above the ground and disqualification. Flexing her legs and pulling with her arms, Noriko easily flipped herself backwards, up and over the rope ring and into the arena.

Landing in a show of dainty grace, Noriko looked over at Mutsu. The torachi hadn't even bothered to watch her potential loss. Instead, he was staring at the faint wisps of wind that were still breezing through and around his fingers. He looked every bit as surprised and confused as she felt, and likely for the same reasons. Holding up her own hand, Noriko focused her concentration again on bringing out her inner fire. Normally, she'd have to concentrate _really_ hard in order to get even a tongue of fire large enough to light a cigarette on her fingertip. Instead, what she got now for the same amount of concentration was a fireball nearly the size of a beach ball.

"Hey!" the Salamander's voice cut right through them, earning their attentions easily. "Be _careful_ with those! You have _bystanders_ nearby."

Noriko and Mutsu both blinked at him as they realized what he'd said. Or rather, what he _didn't_ say. He'd said to 'be careful' and not 'don't do that'. Which both of them interpreted as him giving his permission to continue using their somehow enhanced magic attacks against each other.

Looking over at each other, both fighters eyed one another dangerously. But then, in a rare show of understanding between Tiger and Dragon, both of them snuffed out their magic and settled back into basic fighting stance. Noriko was aware of the wordless agreement between the two of them. A new tier of ability in exchange for a loss of control. Control that would be needed if they wished to keep things to an acceptable level for a spar. So magic would be put to the side. least until they could focus their abilities on blowing up their intended targets.

She'd already set one dojo on fire, she did not intend to make it a habit.

Charging forward, Mutsu let loose a battlecry as he cocked back a fist. But the showy move didn't fool Noriko, she bounced to the side with her leg raised slightly to block the 'surprise' roundhouse kick that he snapped out towards her waist. The blow knocked her to the side slightly, but once she regained her footing, she jumped forward herself, her petite fist shooting forward to sock him in the face. The blow struck true, but Mutsu just seemed to ignore it as he swung his own fist at her. Even though she bounced away as quickly as she could to lessen the impact, the tiger's fist still hit her kidney with punishing force. Despite her best attempt, the blow was heavy and caused her to reflexively drop her guard and grasp the wound as she gasped and gagged in pain, staggering backwards.

Glaring heatedly at her opponent, Noriko couldn't stop the enraged snarl that escaped her lips upon seeing his satisfied grin. For a very deep and personal reason that all Shimazu shared, seeing that grin on a _Takeda's_ face while it was directed _towards her_ caused something primal and powerful to snap inside her psyche. Like a slumbering dragon that had been rudely prodded awake momentarily, a potent magic burst to life within her breast. And, again following an age-old instinct that all Ketsuen-sha possessed, Noriko 'channeled' that burst of magic.

But rather than into her fists to ignite her fires again, she did something different. She directed her magic into her muscles, filling them with a strength she'd never before felt. The magic swelled within them so quickly and powerfully that, had she been in a proper state of mind, she would've worried that the overwhelming surge of unnatural power might've caused her body to spontaneously explode from the pressure alone.

Instead, she was focused directly on the Takeda cur as he leapt forward with his fist once more cocked back. In his eyes, she knew, he assumed his victory now seemingly imminent because of her wounded and huddled pose. Surely, all it would take was one or two more good strikes like the previous one and she'd go down for good! But an unexpected lunge forward, at speeds he could barely track, a fist which also easily bypassed his meager defense and buried itself into his stomach, quickly changed his mind and the flow of the battle once again.

The power behind her punch was so tremendous that it caused a small shockwave of pressure to shoot out of the Takeda's back, causing the bystanders there to recoil in surprise as it passed over them. Needless to say, Mutsu collapsed to the ground, gagging and convulsing in agony as he cradled his injury. Noriko took a few steps away from him, towering over him with a dark glare that any Shimazu would've recognized. Because they'd know that she was now internally wrestling with that same age-old instinct, which wanted her to press her attack and kill her hated enemy. It was difficult, **_so difficult_** , to not give into that deep, _deep_ yearning desire.

Peeking one eye open, Mutsu glared painfully up at her, hating so deeply how their positions had seemingly been reversed so quickly. He had to get up. He had to! His family was counting on him! He needed to win this fight! He needed to! But with the dragon girl right there, he would have a very difficult time even just getting to his feet now. How could he…How could he win now…? Desperation escalated rapidly as he tried to push past his pain and get back to his feet, or even just into a simple crouch. He was down, _vulnerable._ How could he… Then, just like the Shimazu, instinct kicked in and a surge of magic burst to the surface.

Unlike Noriko, he pushed his magic outwards into the air surrounding him. It happened too quickly for Noriko to properly defend herself, which is how the unexpected and powerful blast of wind sent her flying away from him. The wind was also able to knock several of the unprepared bystanders backwards as well, but they were largely unaffected since they weren't as close to him. Curiously, Harry remained utterly unaffected from where he still stood on the corner post.

As Noriko was knocked into the arena's ropes again and recovered her footing, Mutsu managed to push himself upwards, struggling to slide his feet under him. The pain in his gut still so potent that he ended up floundering and almost lost his balance, forcing him to brace on the floor with one of his hands while the other grasped his wound.

Looking up, Mutsu saw Noriko slowly stalking forward, her gaze cold. The dragon was on her feet, somewhat damaged but still amped up on her magic. He was on the floor, practically crippled in pain and struggling to even breathe properly. In the next few seconds, she'd be more easily able to land a decisive hit and he'd struggle to direct his winds into an adequate defense. She'd won this fight, and they both knew it.

"Do you yield, or do I have to pummel you some more?" she asked calmly.

* * *

 **July 5, 2015**

Sunday had finally arrived, a day that none of the disciples had ever been forward to before as much as they had now. In keeping with their promise, Dudley and Harry, as well as the many instructors and trainers, had allowed the kids to sleep in for as long as they wanted. And sleep many of them did, with immeasurably great satisfaction. But, for as exhausted as they were, there were still several dozen of whom were early birds by nature.

Among those early risers was Neville Longbottom. Together with his partner and new friend, Kathy McKenzie, and several of his fellow Hogwarts companions and their own partners, they were exploring the largely as-yet-unexplored Tower. The first level of the Rec Tower consisted of the Dining Hall and kitchen. But the second level and above were still largely unknown. What they found was both what they'd hoped, as well as a large number of surprises and unknowns for both groups involved.

On the second level, they found a single large room that was dominated by a large number of tables and chairs. Upon each of the tables and stacked in neat rows on shelve along the walls, the kids found a great number of magical board games. The wizards had easily recognized a considerable number of the magical games, like wizarding chess, gobstones, exploding snap, wizard skittles, and even a few snitch snatcher games. There was a notable absence of anything that could be used in Quidditch games, like Quaffles or even brooms. But that could also be said on the muggle side of available sports as well, no baseball bats or balls of any kind. However, there were just as many strange magical games that even the wizards didn't recognize, leading them assume that they had come from the orient.

The third level had an equal number of games that the muggles recognized. These consisted of a large number of pool tables, ping-pong, chess and checker boards, several differently themed versions of pinball machines, and an especially very large amount of arcade games that varied from fighting to shooting to hunting to motor-racing to dance-off games, and even more yet to be seen. This level had a lot of the muggle kids excited, especially when they saw that the arcade games didn't seem to need coins to operate!

The fourth level was a divided into four equal sections, all of which were clearly dedicated to music and dancing. If the various instruments, loudspeakers, dance floors, and raised platforms for singing were any indication. Though none of the explorers were necessarily musically inclined, all of the kids quietly admitted that having the chance to throw a dance party would probably be a lot of fun. Especially when their training started bearing fruit and they had stuff that was worth celebrating.

The fifth floor consisted a single large workout gym, with a truly remarkably wide assortment of muscle training machines. It was a true bodybuilder's wet dream made real.

But it was the sixth and seventh levels that really got the muggles super excited. The levels were divided into numerous rooms of differing sizes, each of which housed either a large television or a theater projector and a variety of game consoles like Xbox, Playstation, Nintendo, or just simple DVD players. Lining the walls were enormous shelves that were positively brimming with an incredible assortment of video games (all properly divided and sorted by console type) or films, ranging from the classics to modern.

" _ **OH MY GOD!**_ " Kathy was squealing in utter delight as she practically teleported over to the gaze at the choices available on the shelves. "I _love_ those guys! Truly, _I do! LOOK AT ALL THESE!_ I see _anime!_ I see _action!_ I see _romance!_ I see—I see—I see _everything!_ "

"What are you talking about, Kathy?" Neville asked, standing near the doorway, utterly confused by what had his partner so excited. "What is all this stuff?"

"That's what I want to know," Draco admitted, walking over to one of the shelves and picking out a box. "What is this…'Fairy…thing?"

"Do you mean 'Fairy Tail'?" Darren asked, hurrying over to Draco and taking the box from him. Flipping it over, he quickly glanced over the information, his smile widening as he read. "Hey, Kathy! How about we introduce our friendly magicals to the pure awesomeness that is Fairy Tail?"

Kathy looked over, glancing between both Chi-Disciples with a wide grin. "Oh, _totally!_ Let's blow their minds what how we simpleton 'muggles' view magic!"

Little did Neville and Draco realize just how much their worlds were about to utterly flipped upside-down, _shattered_ , and _completely remade_ following their introduction to the world and wonder of anime and the strange concepts it held. Concepts that, in the coming weeks, they'd start to realize were probably the main motivations behind much of what the Salamander and the Saiyan could do.

To Draco, it had seemed almost insane at first. And had the screen not reminded him of the moving portraits he was already familiar with, he might not have even given it a chance. Upon watching the "Greatest Fights of All Time, Hands-Down Marathon" that Darren and Kathy had selected for the mismatched pair of Gryffindor and Slytherin, Draco slowly began to appreciate the muggle's mimicry. In fact, to a slight bit of shame, he would admit the sound and quality of the picture was far better than any portrait he'd ever met. That Natsu Dragneel or Son Goku never paused in their actions to address their audience and hurl insults at the villain was a strange thing to experience. But he supposed muggles couldn't ape everything correctly. However, once the initial discomfort for the medium had dissipated and Draco had let himself be carried away by the narrative, something began to blossom in his mind. A revelation, that he would be among the first Purebloods to _truly understand_ just how and where the Twin Calamities had earned their strange individual nicknames among the muggle populace.

The Salamander from the Land of Mages, a golden world where Purebloods ruled. And it had been a Muggle who had penned the story to boot. In it , he found the idea of magical guilds retread as all popular ideas were. Bands of magical brotherhoods were not a new concept, but the idea of selling their services and making money off muggles was most assuredly not an idea that either of the boys had ever considered before. The idea of making money off muggles by using his magic to solve problems that they couldn't solve appealed to Draco's Pureblood sense of superiority and pride greatly. Then came the moment he would later catch his first glimpse of Super Saiyan Goku in battle against the evil tyrant Frieza. His eyes wide as he soaked in the images. The visceral knowledge that a pair of _gods_ made war upon a world dying around them as they brought their furies to bear at one another. That battle would forever be drilled into his mind for just how far he could push himself. He saw the potential and power unrivaled. It ignited something within him that day, a desire of some kind. It filled him with an urge to double – no, _triple!_ – his efforts in training under Salamander. He wanted to attain such power for himself!

He wouldn't realize it until later, but he found he just couldn't refer to Harry and Dudley by their birth surnames any longer. His sheer respect for each of them had skyrocketed ever since he'd started training. But now, now that he knew where they'd gained their inspirations, and had an inkling for just how much effort they must've put into their training, Draco found that he just couldn't call them as 'Potter' or 'Dursley' any longer. To do so would imply that he saw them as mere human beings, which he now realized would be an insult to their training, their dedication. No, from now on, he could only ever call them by the titles that he knew they had rightfully earned: Salamander and the Saiyan.

Neville's world was also changed irreparably as well. Not just what he learned from Fairy Tail and Dragon Ball Z, but also what he saw in other anime series. In Fairy Tail, he had his first introduction to a magic user who had found a way to use something he himself deeply enjoyed and turned it into a combat form, Azuma and his 'Lost Magic' that could control plants. Azuma was a total badass and a monster warrior who could summon and control any plant, even transforming himself into plant matter for surprise attacks and spying.

From Azuma, Neville saw and learned the potential power a magic user who could control plants was capable of, if dedicated enough. However, Neville also learned a potential drawback to using that type of magic, becoming that which he was using if he lost control of his power. But regardless of the potential dangers involved, the image of Azuma utterly dominating his fight against the mighty Titania, Ezra Scarlet, had been firmly imprinted into Neville's imagination. A goal had been planted in his heart and mind that day, and he grew determined to see his new dream come to life.

But it was in another anime series that Neville found a mentor he felt he truly could respect and wanted to emulate. The genius fox demon named Kurama, also a master of plant-combat and perhaps one of the most dangerous people who'd never existed. With just an application of his demon energy, he could change any plant he touched or was near, giving them lethal new powers or enhancing those they already had. And he carried a wide variety of them on him at all times as mere seeds, allowing him to carry a large arsenal that he could pull out with only a moment's notice.

Neville and Draco's experiences were just two of many of the Chi-Disciples who'd also quickly become introduced and more and more obsessed with anime and manga in the coming weeks. An obsession that was fed _lovingly_ by many of their Ki-Disciple partners and friends.

* * *

While many of the disciples were busy exploring and discovering the wonders of the Tower, the Twin Calamities themselves were distracted when they felt the wards surrounding the training camp's grounds tremble. Guests had arrived uninvited. And they were guests, not intruders, since the wards only trembled. That had immediately narrowed the list of suspects to just the Goblins, since only the greedy little buggers knew of the camp's location and how to enter it.

Standing next to one another, the two teenagers watched as a procession of five Goblins approached them through the open east gates. Four of the Goblins were carrying a pair of large chests between them, following the fifth and obviously the eldest among them. Dudley raised his arm in greeting as the group drew near them. "Baldore, good to see you again."

The leading Goblin nodded in greeting, a slight grin spreading across his face as his gaze bounced between the two boys. For some reason, his grin seemed to spread slightly when his gaze landed on Harry, earning a small answering grin from the dark-haired boy. "Likewise, Warboss. I come with both a package and a message this time."

"Oh?" Dudley said, his brow quirking questioningly as he looked at the large chests as the Goblins set them down before him.

"The first shipment of the 'Resistance Suits' you'd wanted," Baldore said. With a slight gesture of his hand, one of the chests opened to reveal a number of folded brown bodysuits with a pair of metallic bracers on the forearms. Picking up the topmost suit, Dudley eyed it critically as Baldore continued speaking, "Only fifty in this load, but I figured you could use them as the prototypes to work out the kinks. As you can see, we designed them with full body coverage, as per your request. We had to create a number of new spells and magics just to get all of the desired effects and get said magics to be compatible with one another. It was a _very_ difficult process, I assure you."

"And you'll get your gold as soon as the ICW stops dragging its collective heels and gets off their fat asses long enough to pay up," Dudley retorted, earning a number of snorting sneers from the Goblins.

Normally, the Goblins would've demanded _immediate_ payment straight from the wizard in question. However, Dudley wasn't just another wizard and he was their Warboss, meaning he got a _heavy_ discount. But considering the large mountains of gold he and his cousin had been bringing into the clan's coffers since that fateful day in Germany three years ago, as well as humiliating and practically robbing certain rich Purebloods blind, the Goblins were willing to give the boy the discount with minimal grumbling. Plus, there was the minor fact that their Warboss was continually demanding and inspiring new magical innovations and research from them, often resulting with incredible new spells and wards that had previously untapped potential in a number of situations. _Ohhhh_ , the gold they could swindle from the wizards when they eventually started selling these new spells to them…!

"What about the gravity ward?" Harry asked, eyeing the suit with equal scrutiny as his cousin. "Did you find a way to nullify it? I doubt even Dudley and I could handle _that_ level of strain, to say nothing of our disciples."

"But of course, Dragon Slayer," Baldore acknowledged, nodding towards the famed boy. "We've included an 'anti-gravity' charm that only neutralizes the gravity ward here. And, like the ward, the suits will automatically adjust themselves to offer maximum resistance based of an individual's level of power and strength, as monitored by the dojo tattoos."

"I see," Dudley said, smiling slightly as he returned the suit to the chest. "Very good work, as always, Baldore! But what about an emergency kill switch?"

"We took that into consideration as well," the Goblin nodded. "The first method is to press the little red button on the left bracer there." He pointed towards the aforementioned button on the bracer that Dudley held. "But we've also included a secondary way in case the first is defective or you can't manage to reach it. All you need is to utter a certain phrase, and the suit will instantly return to its standby settings. The phrase being ' _Gobber glegg itth Took_!'"

Both boys barked out loud laughs of merriment at that phrase, instantly able to recognize it as 'Goblins are the Best!'. "Ohh, our dear wizard friends would rather _die_ than say such a thing!" Dudley laughed.

"That's what _we're_ hoping for!" one of the other Goblins admitted, a murderous gleam in his eyes as he said that. This statement just earned another laugh from the boys and growing sneers from the Goblins.

"Hey, what are _those things_ doing here?!" a loud voice growled from nearby. Turning, the group all shot annoyed and/or angered looks towards Theodore Nott, who was flanked by Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. And thanks to that yell, a crowd of nearby disciples looked over and quickly grew interested, whether it was in what was happening or the strange creatures themselves.

With Draco's former bookends on either side of him now and a number of his Housemates at his back, Theodore marched up to his magical masters and the disgusting creatures with a dark glare on his face. "You're not planning on teaching _these things_ too, are you?!"

"Oh?" Harry said, quirking his eyebrow at Theodore's hostile tone, as though surprised at the boy's aggressive stance. "You don't think they could take it? Or are you afraid that they'll show up?"

"They're _Goblins!_ " Theodore barked, as though that statement would end the discussion.

"I know," Harry said, nodding agreeably. "And you're a human being, I'm a Salamander, he's a Saiyan, and we're all living, intelligent creatures. What's it matter that we look a little different from one another?" The look of honest confusion on his face was enough to send the various Purebloods into angry, if muted, fits of disgust while the rest of the disciples just looked on in curiosity.

"Hey, Salamander," Goyle's partner Henry called from the side, breaking the mounting tension. Pointing towards the chests, he asked, "What are those things for?"

"Oh! I'm so glad you asked!" Harry answered, his look of confusion immediately changing to playful excitement. Picking up the same suit that Dudley had, Harry held it up and out for the disciples to see. Most of the Chi-Disciples couldn't help sneering in disgust at seeing the bodysuit unfurled, taking an immediate dislike to it simply due to the fact that it was so different from their preferred attire of robes and (recently) dougi.

"These are our newest training equipment!" Harry declared excitedly. "We call them Resistance Suits. And they're designed to work your entire body and power simultaneously! I can't wait to try them out!"

"You expect us to _wear_ those abominations?" Crabbe couldn't help asking, his expression of disgruntled disgust mirrored by his compatriots.

"Yup!" Harry chirped, smiling widely. Then his gaze turned mischievous as he stared at Theodore. "So, who'd like to be our first lab rat? How about you, Theodore?"

Before the boy could utter a word, Harry suddenly shot forward and somehow slipped the bodysuit on over Theodore's clothes. He paused only long enough to press the activation button on the bracer before returning to his earlier position. Harry and Dudley both watched with wide-eyed expectation as the bodysuit around Theodore suddenly started expanding and billowing outwards. After only a few moments, Theodore's attire had taken on an utterly ridiculous appearance of having his limbs and torso being seemingly inflated like balloons with only the joints, gloves, bracers, and boots remaining normal.

"Wha-What the?!" Theodore gasped out, staring down at his new clothing in confusion, having been barely able to follow any of Harry's movement at all. Immediately, he'd tried raising his hands to grab the collar of the bodysuit, so he could tear it off. However, the suit resisted his attempts to move, forcing him to start straining, pushing against it with all of his might. His face rapidly darkened from the exertion. "What…is…this?! I…can't move!"

"Of course you can't!" Dudley stated easily. "If you could move around _so easily_ in that, then it wouldn't be _training_ , would it?"

"You're…crazy!" Theodore cried, glaring hatefully at the pair as he finally managed to raise his hands to the collar and started pulling at it unsuccessfully. It was like the entire suit was stuck to his body with a permanent sticking charm! "How do I get this off?!"

"There's two ways," Dudley said, holding out his hand with two fingers raised. "The easiest way is to say the magical incantation. That being: _Magnificent Magic! Most Mysterious! Make Me a Master Magician!_ "

"Is that true?" Krum asked, looking skeptically at the boys. In all the time he'd known them, he'd found them be quite mischievous but also very dedicated to their training. He'd also come to realize that, when it came to them, nothing was ever truly easy or as it first seemed. He certainly wouldn't put it past them to try and prank someone in a situation like this.

"MAGNIFICENT MAGIC! MOST MYSTERIOUS! MAKE ME A MASTER MAGICIAN!" Theodore immediately cried out, frantic to get this horrible suit off of him however he could.

" _Wow_ , he actually said it," Harry said in a deadpan voice, his expression now a curious cross between delighted humor and angry disbelief.

"Yeah, what an _idiot_ ," Dudley agreed, having the same expression.

Krum rolled his eyes, as did many of the others watching, all having anticipated this. Although, there were a few scattered laughs and chuckles among the disciples as well.

"WHAT?! YOU JACKASSES!" Theodore yelled in anger.

"Alright, alright," Dudley said, holding up his hand placatingly to ease the angry disciple. "The real incantation is 'Gobber glegg itth Took' and, _yes_ , that is the real one this time!"

Theodore didn't repeat it this time. Instead, he shot a heated and suspicious gaze over at the two. But then, as his gaze shifted over to the watching and silently grinning Goblins, realization of who likely created that incantation seemed to dawn on him. A look of pure disgust crossed his face (along with many of the other Purebloods), before he resentfully turned his face away. Clearly, he'd rather suffer than allow himself to stoop to such a level to say such an insult!

"The second way to stop it is the same way I started it," Harry said cryptically, finally throwing the boy a bone to gnaw on.

"What?"

" _Think_ , Theodore!" Dudley barked out. "You must've seen _something_ he'd done as he put that on you! Wasn't there anything he did that seemed… _strange_?"

It took several moments for the hint to sink in, then several more as Theodore searched his memory. It had happened so fast, he just didn't see anything of how Harry managed to get him dressed so quickly in the suit. The only tiny part that he'd managed to glimpse Harry doing was when he—! Finally, realization dawned on him and he looked down at the bracer that had a glowing green button on it. Straining with all his might, Theodore reached over and pressed the green button, which immediately turned red. As it did, all of the weight and resistance that was weighing down on his suddenly vanished as the suit deflated and Theodore collapsed on the ground, heaving for breath. Moments later, he quickly busied himself once again trying to tear it off of himself, but much more successfully now.

"Well, well! He figured it out!" Dudley said, looking marginally more approving than he had a few moments ago.

"Man, I can't _wait_ to get started training with these!" Harry said, grinning excitedly as he turned back to the two chests and the Goblins. " _Oh!_ That reminds me! You said you also had a message for us, right? What was it, Baldore?"

"M-Master Baldore?" a soft, hesitant voice spoke up from behind the group of Goblins, attracting the attentions of the entire gathering. Standing near the threshold of the gate was a small young girl, easily around 12-years-old. Her facial features were rather cute, with a somewhat large nose, wind-reddened cheeks that still had lingering baby fat on them, small dark eyes, and a thick curtain of long white hair that hung down past her shoulders, rustling in the cold breeze, which in turn was causing the girl to shiver badly. Most curiously of all, she was dressed in a rather stylish white wedding dress that was clearly too thin for the cold climate she was standing in. Everything about her body posture screamed weariness touched with a small hint of fear, and yet there was something about the resigned set of her shoulders to carry on despite it. "I-I-Is it t-time yet?"

"Not quite, Tripthorn," Baldore answered, narrowing his eyes slightly in a nonverbal reprimand. "You came out too early."

"Who's this?" Dudley asked pointedly, looking curiously at the girl. It was clear to him that she was a human/Goblin child, her stature alone gave that away.

Turning back Dudley, Baldore gave his Warboss a truly sinister grin that showed far too many of his sharp teeth. "This young lady is Tripthorn, daughter of Warboss Brodnar, from the Kurlast clan."

"Kurlast…" Dudley murmured, cupping his chin in contemplation. "They're the clan that rules in MACUSA, right? They were the bastards that were trying to give me grief back in Boston, Chicago, and Denver last year."

"That's correct, Warboss," Baldore stated, nodding as his predatory grin widened noticeably. "Well, as luck would have it, we've recently and finally managed to… _resolve our differences_ with them." By that, he of course meant that the Gringotts clan had gone to war with the Kurlast clan in response to their deep and prejudicial disrespect towards Dudley, and therefore towards the Gringotts clan itself. "Along with some minor compensation for reparations to cover our losses, we also gained this…young lady as part of the deal." Here, Baldore paused as he looked pointedly up at Dudley. "I've already discussed much of this with the Dragon Slayer about two weeks ago. He didn't inform you of any of this?"

Dudley shot Harry a pointed glare and a raised brow.

"Sorry," Harry said, an awkward grin crossing his face as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "With everything else we were doing at the time; getting this place ready, finalizing our terms for the ICW, studying for tests, the Shimazu Surprise showdown, and training, I might've, _sorta, kinda **forgot**_ to tell you…?"

Dudley held an annoyed glare at his cousin for several long moments before returning his attention back to Baldore. "And just why is 'Tripthorn' here and looking like she's ready to get married to someone? By the way, she seems a little young to be married to anyone, even by _Goblin_ standards!"

Now, Harry shared Baldore's predatory grin as the elderly creature started explaining. "Yes, I was getting to that. See, as part of the negotiations, we agreed to be given Tripthorn to be made the new life-mate of our Warboss. In order to create a lasting peace and stronger alliance ties—"

"Wait a minute!" Dudley interrupted his arms crossed in front of him in an X as his eyes widening in horrified realization. "You explained all of this to Harry?" he muttered out slowly, "That means, he must've been part of the negotiations!" He shouted as he turned back to Harry, the furious glare the Saiyan shot the Salamander would've been enough to freeze even the most depraved and bloodthirsty of monsters in their tracks momentarily out of instinctive terror. "You Sold ME! What kind of jackass SELLS his own cousin?!"

"Hey, to be completely fair, you told me that you didn't want to deal with Baldore at the time. Hell, you said that I could 'go nuts', and then _you left me unsupervised_. That makes this partially _your fault too,_ ya know." Harry smiled back with the irrefutable logic of an unrepentant asshole.

Dudley felt that punching him was only fair. In fact, his body completely agreed with his mind and carried out the desire before he even realized he'd decided to attack his cousin. And, quite frankly, the lack of conscious input meant that there was _nothing_ holding back the full weight of his strength. The sheer force of impact kicked up a thunderous explosion that deafened everyone nearby while also sending Harry rocketing thousands of meters high and away, where he'd slam into the cliff on the far side of the fjord.

A furious golden aura erupted around Dudley, cratering the ground around him as he blasted after Harry with a loud battlecry of berserk rage. " ** _You absolute Shite!_** "

The abrupt and highly unexpected attack had caught the closest Adepts by surprise, sending most of them careening to the ground out of surprise. The Goblins, having come to know their Warboss and his battle brother's highly-volatile nature and very short temper, had expected such an extreme reaction and easily prepared for it. But even with that preparation, they were still knocked back a short distance from the backlash of Dudley's forceful departure. And that was without mentioning how they were all cringing at the ringing pain in their ears from the full-powered punch they'd been too close to.

In the distance, an especially savage brawl erupted as the two cousins met each other in open combat, kicking up explosive shockwaves, fracturing and blasting and splitting the sheer rock cliffs as they danced up and across it in random dodges and clashes. Even from that distance, the echoes that reverberated through the fjord were close to deafening. Everyone present could easily see that this fight was much more vicious than their usual morning spars.

Sighing heavily, Baldore turned to Tripthorn. Although the girl was an embarrassment to the Goblin race due to her human blood, he gave as gentle a look as he could manage when she managed to recover herself and was gawking off into the distance at her future 'life-mate'. Even though she'd heard the rumors about them, it was obvious that she'd either not believed the full extent of their Warboss's might. The look of excited awe mixed with terror on her face now showed that she was finally starting to get an inkling to the type of world she was being thrust into against her will.

After a moment of staring Tripthorn seemed to come back to herself and looked back over to Baldore questioningly, clearly having felt his heavy gaze on her tiny shoulders. Seeing that he'd gained her attention, he shuffled forward and leaned down to quietly murmur into her ear, "While I did say 'life-mate', the official term used in the negotiations was 'ward'. You need not worry about marrying that human brute over there. All of this was just a little prank that the Dragon Slayer wanted to play on his cousin. Understand?"

Tripthorn blinked in surprise for a moment. Then a small, sheepish smile slowly started spreading across her face as she nodded in understanding. Turning again, Baldore barked out to the nearest of his Warboss's disciples, "You there! Bring these chests into the main dojo! And you, girl, take Tripthorn and get her changed into more suitable attire! She's just become your newest classmate!"

* * *

 **Fiori75 AN** : Okay I'm going to head off all questions about the bursts of magic and instinctive channeling here. What Noriko and Mutsu did was basically accidental magic, but on steroids with an IV of speed. That's mostly the poking that Harryu and Dudley gave them, but it's also *slightly* (Like a hell of a lot smaller than Noriko thinks it is) the fact they are Ketsuen-sha. Remember they have creature blood, and a lot of families chose creatures that also happened to be valued for their parts being used as Wand Cores. This then leads to a greater ease of magical ability because their magic is already slightly more *focused* from their very first breath than others. Note that the word focus is used, not power/strength/ect. Focus. it's just focused power happens to get better results than unfocused power. So they seem more powerful.

If you don't know who Idi Amin is, then go look him up. That's history there, go learn something. That means you millennials.

1) "Watashi no o shiri kara te o hanashite kudasai!"= "Get your hand off my ass!"

 **Tellemicus' Note** : Sorry about the long wait. Between a spike of activity for the winter shopping spree at my work and a sudden drop of muse for my writing, things have been slow for me. But hopefully, that's about to change and I can resume regular updates again. Kudos to anyone who can guess the various inspirations I had for the training scenes and interactions that occurred in this chapter.

Okay, here's an obligatory shout-out to **Darkscythe Drake** , whose Community I recently joined and an author of notable skill. While he's got several stories, the one that I much enjoy is ' _Mugenjin of Judgment_ '.

For those of you who want a more visual example to how Dudley and Harry fight, you should check those utterly awesome DBZ fanfilms _Light of Hope_. They depict perhaps the most realistic and accurate representations of how I personally see the boys going at it. Here's a link to films currently available on YouTube:

 **www youtube com/watch?v=opji5DgE_nQ  
www youtube com/watch?v=NH04ys6y2Ko**


	13. Hot Springs and Meditations

**.  
The Magic Revolution**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
Co-Authored by: Fiori75  
 _#13: Hot Springs and Meditations  
_

 **July 5, 2015  
Sunday**

The thunderous roar of explosions in the distance went ignored by the current occupants of the bathhouse with a growing ease of constant exposure. While their two rambunctious and rowdy teenaged masters were busy trying to bury the other's face in the rocky cliffs of the fjord, a large portion of the female disciples had taken up residence in the hot springs, lying back and relaxing into the soothing heat of the hot waters.

Among those young ladies was a certain Auror-in-disguise, who was seated in a small nook towards the back of the hot spring and hidden slightly behind a strange miniature tree of some sort. It looked something clearly foreign to native Europe or Scandinavia, so Tonks felt reasonably safe in her assumption that it was something brought over from the Orient. Whatever kind of strange plant it was, it was clear that it was carefully cultivated and well-loved, given its very healthy green leaves and perfectly trimmed appearance. In fact, it was so perfectly trimmed that it was able to create just enough of a barrier so as to provide a modicum of privacy in the shared pool. Clearly, when the boys had designed this bathhouse, they'd added little spots like this to give the girls a slight sense of privacy.

Clad in only a string bikini and leaning back heavily against the warm but smooth rocky edge, Tonks let out a long, low sigh of relief. After just five days of near-constant training and abuse to her body, this watery warmth was truly a heavenly luxury as it seeped into her sore limbs and soothed her muscles. It was so relaxing that it became something of a struggle to prevent herself from nodding off and falling asleep right there and then.

To try and ward off sleep, Tonks focused her mind on the same subject that had been on her mind for several weeks now. The mystery behind the newly-returned Boy-Who-Lived and his cousin's powers and how all of this strenuous activity could actually make her magic stronger. Oh, she was well aware that her physical strength was probably going to be quite astounding by the end of all this. But could physical strength and endurance really play such an important role in her magical power as well? It was a question whose answer would only come in time and training, as she was coming to realize.

Shifting gears, she focused back on the fighting lessons she'd been receiving until now. The boys had decided to have her trained in two distinct methods of fighting, Karate and Boxing. From what'd she'd learned so far of both of these styles, Tonks could easily see why they'd chosen them for her in particular. Her Karate 'sensei' had taught her that his particular brand of the style was all about self-defense, waiting for the opponent to come to her, redirecting attacks harmlessly away from herself, and then counterattacking instantly afterwards while they were still recovering. An acceptable style for personal self-defense for most common people to learn and use, she had quickly realized.

Boxing, on the other hand, was the exact opposite in many regards. From what her instructor told her, there were three distinct styles of Boxing: Swarmer, Slugger, and Out-Boxer. She was being taught in the Out-Boxer style, which focused on agility, dodging attacks rather than blocking or redirecting them, and then striking at an opponent's openings or weak spots with precision and strength. Perhaps the only real weakness to Boxing was that it focused too heavily on punches and not enough on kicks. It was a style that worked best under the concept of 'attack first, defend later'. But for her, it was perfect because it helped balance out the defensive style that was karate's hallmark.

' _Yes, these styles would suit me and many Aurors quite well_ ,' Tonks thought to herself, remembering her most recent training session.

As that thought was passing through her mind, it caused her to reflect on her many fellow students. Most of the Ki-Disciples already had some basic training in fighting. But even those who were starting fresh, like her and the other Chi-Disciples, threw themselves into the training with an enthusiasm and eagerness that was surprising to the Auror. How they found the exhaustive, dirty, bloody, and (above all else) painful physical exercises and sparring matches as enjoyable was almost beyond her. Tonks, like most Witches and Wizards, had enjoyed a very sedate and relaxed childhood. Anything demanding physical exertion was something to be avoided at all costs because of how exhausting it could be, with Quidditch being the _sole_ exception! That was the general attitude most wizards had. And it was one that she had sadly taken part in as well.

While Tonks didn't shy away from hard work, it was only after she'd enlisted into the Aurors that she'd started having to endure training in order to prepare for potential clashes against lawbreakers. At the time, she'd been rather put out when she discovered that she wasn't quite in as good shape as she'd first thought she was when she'd started that training. Now, looking back on that time and her regular training sessions since, Tonks couldn't help but shake her head in disbelief at her own ignorance. An hour's time dedicated to navigating an unchanging obstacle course (which she'd quickly memorized and could anticipate), followed by long performance evaluations from her superiors, then finishing up with some one-on-one dueling practice. There was a level of monotony involved with it since, despite the necessity of it, no one ever really wanted to really put up with such training either. It was far easier and more interesting to focus on learning new and obscure spells than to sweat and bleed like a filthy muggle after all!

But now, looking back on that 'exhaustive' training regimen, Tonks found herself _yearning_ for it with wishful longing. That 'hour long' training (which truthfully only involved about ten minutes of _actual_ training) seemed like a fanciful dream! The _torture_ that the Twin Calamities, the various Drill Sergeants, and the numerous fighting masters pushed upon her and all of their students lasted almost quite literally from _sunrise_ to _sunset_ with only a handful of breaks and meditation sessions to allow rest! Perhaps the only bright side to it was that the training was rarely ever the same. There was always something new. Some new exercise or stretches to pull, forms to learned, multi-group sparring or single matches. No matter what it was, each day brought on new and unexpected challenges that worked muscles in her body that she didn't even know she had! Combined with the strange heaviness that she could somehow feel weighing her down all day, and Tonks felt like little more than a massive, walking bruise covered in sore, spasming muscles and an ever-growing desire to just quit.

Thankfully, there were a couple of things that kept her from quitting. The first and most important reason was that her job was quite literally on the line. If she just gave up _now_ , this early into the training, she knew she'd be fired the moment Scrimgeour found out that she'd quit, before she'd been able to learn any and all of the boys' secrets. And, honestly, despite all of the pain, exhaustion, and a certain level of humiliation that she was now enduring, Tonks herself still really wanted to know those secrets as well.

The second reason was a bit more diabolical, which she was quite sure was the boys' intention. She didn't know where she was, which in turn meant that she couldn't get back to London! The boys had originally transported her group of disciples to this facility by use of a Portkey. Although the surrounding landscape and climate were quite unique and telling, geography was not a subject taught in Hogwarts since it was not in any way 'magical' and thus not important enough to teach. As a result, she wouldn't have even known the difference between China and Brazil, let alone know where they were without a map for reference! Aside from the infamous 'Day 1 Dropouts', the boys hadn't allowed any more of their disciples to quit or leave. So, Tonks was never able to find out exactly where they were or how they managed to get the dropouts home.

The third reason was much simpler and far more personal to her. And she had first caught sight of it when she entered the dojo and the boys were introducing the numerous sensei. It was the handsome American Kickboxer, who she later learned was named Daniel Puder. Though he was easily ten years older than her, that still hadn't stopped her reflexive sigh of fawning over him, along with a considerable majority of the other girls present. When compared to grizzled and old Asian masters, and the stern and professional Drill Sergeants, Puder was practically the embodiment of adult masculine sexiness to the female populace. And though he didn't go out of his way to encourage it and was always as professional around the kids as the other masters, Tonks could see that he somewhat enjoyed all of the female attention he was getting, as any typical guy would. Tonks found herself immediately smitten with the man and yearned to have a conversation with him, to get to know him a little bit. But she was largely unable to due to her disguise as a mere _teenager!_ She knew that if she tried to approach him, he'd likely just brush off her advances as he would any of the other younger girls who had also tried to flirt with him since training began. ' _ **ARGH!**_ _This is so_ _ **frustrating**_ _!_ '

And finally, the last reason she didn't, nay _couldn't_ , just leave the training camp was because of all the far eastern wizards who were in attendance. Although they were nominally a part of the International Confederation of Wizards, the far eastern wizards rarely ever participated. They most certainly upheld the Statute of Secrecy, but beyond that there was little to no contact between Europe and the Americas with their eastern brethren. This was due largely to distance and the dangers of the travel magic that were involved with such extremely far destinations. Apart from a few collections of undoubtedly outdated 'authenticated' reports, folktales, legends, and myths passed down through the centuries and decades from wandering wizards, next to nothing was known about them, their cultures, or their magic. So, Tonks was very, _very_ curious about them and wanted to learn all she could about them.

" _Oooh_ , that feels _goooood_ ," purred out a musical voice in lilting tones. It was a voice that Tonks quickly recognized as belonging to one of the Japanese witches. This one in particular was very easy to remember, given both her peculiar appearance and musical voice that seemed unable to express any type of negative undertones, even when she was frothing mad. What was her name again? It was weird sounding and pronouncing. Hm…Suu-bass-aye? No, that didn't sound right. _Ugh_ , why couldn't they just have _normal_ names?!

Peeking out from around her little hiding place, Tonks spotted the little girl in question. She, along with the fiery-tempered girl and her two lady servants, were lounging in the main pool area barely a few feet away from her hidey-hole. Still staring, Tonks couldn't help but quirk her brow in slight surprise as she saw the barely-confined curves that each of them possessed. The musical girl was still rather young in appearance, so her figure was very much like that of a child and had a certain air of 'cuteness' about her. The onesie swimsuit she wore only helped to reinforce this image to all who looked her way. But, by contrast, even though she also wore a conservative onesie, it was blatantly clear that the fire girl possessed a body figure and curves that most women would kill to have! Although, that's not to say that her two companions weren't as appealing as she was, for both were almost as voluminous as her, as their own bikinis proudly displayed. One of them, with the golden eyes that seemed to be a quirk of the family, was almost as shapely, though it was more confined to her lower body. The other lady, who had normal dark brown eyes, was a bit slimmer but no less pretty, if in a more matured and conservative manner.

After a long moment of staring, Tonks couldn't help the somewhat childish pout and glare from darkening her expression as a feeling of inadequacy settled upon her the longer she looked at the Shimazu girls. ' _Not even my breasts, in my natural form, are_ _ **that**_ _big! And I'm a_ _ **grown woman**_ _! This is_ _ **so unfair**_ _!_ '

"How much longer are you going to hide over there?" one of two lady companions asked, the one with golden eyes.

Tonks blinked in surprise as, after a moment, all of the newcomers had glanced over in her direction. Sighing heavily at having her private time once again interrupted, Tonks smoothly slid out from her little cubbyhole and hesitantly moved closer to them. "I wasn't hiding, just trying to have some alone time, girls. But how did you know I was here?"

"We're the descendants of dragons. We have strong senses of smell," the servant Shimazu girl stated, earning nods of agreement from her companions and an eye-roll from the musical girl. That strange statement seemed to have meant something important, as if it explained everything. "Who are you, miss?"

"Tonks," she greeted, raising her hand out of the water for a quick wave. "Nikki Tonks. And you?"

"Tsukiko," the girl who'd spoken up first said, grinning in a friendly manner. Gesturing to her companions, she said, "This is Kesshomaru and Noriko."

"And I'm Tsubasa Kitora," the musical girl said, an enchanting smile of her own on her face. But then her smile turned into something resembling a pouting glare. "Are you an ōbake(1)? You look like a kid, but you smell like an old woman."

" _Who are you calling_ _ **old**_ _?!_ " Tonks snapped reflexively, immediately feeling defensive despite her confusion at the odd question. " _I'm_ _ **not**_ _old! You're just a_ _ **little brat**_ _, kid!_ "

Despite the aggressive tone and her obvious anger, all of the eastern witches laughed or smiled at Tonks' assertion. It was so typical and familiar of a response that none of them took offense to it, not even her targeted victim. Tsubasa was too busy letting loose musical giggles to get angry herself.

"So, you are an ōbake!" Tsubasa stated after recovering from her giggles, nodding decisively. "I thought so!"

"And what's an 'ōbake'?" Tonks asked, speaking the odd word slowly, to ensure that she pronounced as best that she could.

"A shapeshifter," Noriko clarified as she slid down into the waters and gave a deep sigh of relief, closing her eyes in relish.

"A sh-sh-shapeshifter?" Tonks repeated, trying and failing to hide her rapidly rising fear at possibly being found out. "I-I've never seen one before. Y-You guys have those too?" Oh, how she _hated_ herself for stuttering like that!

" _Don't lie_ ," Kesshomaru stated in a biting tone and with a dark glare on her lovely face. "We all know you are one. Even the boys know that you're older than you're pretending to be."

"Wh- _ **WHAT?!**_ " The horror of that revelation setting in quickly. She had no need to clarify who the 'boys' were, since it was abundantly obvious: Harry and Dudley. "H-H-How could they know?! Why haven't they _said_ anything?!"

"Harry-san is a dragon too," Noriko stated simply, as if that answered all questions. And, in a way, Tonks found that it really did.

The boy had made it no secret as to how he was so strong. Fighting and killing dragons with his bare hands and all that. On the one hand, Tonks hadn't believed a word of it because that was just _insane_! No one in their right minds would do that, unless they had no other choice. On the other hand, if he had somehow absorbed the powers of dragons, it would easily explain his unprecedented control over fire. Now that she stopped to think about it, she found that it really wasn't that much of a stretch for him to have also gained some actual physical characteristics of dragons as well, such as a heightened sense of smell! But that realization left her gaping in disbelief and mounting fear. They knew. _They knew!_ And they must've known for a _while_ too! Maybe even from the first moment that Harry'd met her on that beach at Hogwarts!

"Oh, would you stop panicking already?" Tsukiko asked, throwing out a small splash of water that hit Tonks squarely in the face. After Tonks finished sputtering and wiping her face off, the girl waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "If they had not wanted you to learn what they have to teach, they wouldn't have let you join us here, would they?"

…and just like that, Tonks' fear and panic vanished, replaced by confusion and relief.

* * *

 **July 6, 2015  
Monday**

"Alright, everyone! Gather around!"

It was early morning. The usual morning exercises and breakfast were finished, and everyone was heading outside the Tower to start heading towards their designated areas of training. But Harry's shout brought that to a quick halt as everyone started and turned towards the dark-haired boy. He and his cousin stood upon the steps leading into the Tower, a slightly elevated position that allowed all to see him.

"You all have endured your first week of training, and for that I congratulate you all," Harry said, smiling despite the serious tone he was using. But that smile soon faded as he turned fully serious. "But from now on, things are going to get progressively more difficult. The more you train, the stronger you become, and the more we'll demand and expect from you all! If you think you can endure that, you will return home stronger for it, I know it! However, for those of you who can't, who know that this truly isn't what you'd signed up for, we've got an announcement for you. The path to return home has been opened for you at long last!"

"What's that mean?" someone called out, voicing everyone's question for them.

"It means that you will now have a choice," Dudley announced. "To stay here and continue to train and get stronger. Or to quit and go home like cowards. Either way, we don't really care what choice you make anymore."

"However," Harry interjected before Dudley could get started on the rant they all saw he wanted to make. "If you quit your training early, the magical contract will go into effect once you leave these grounds. Come, follow me and I'll show you."

So saying, Harry led the large group past the dojo and down an otherwise unused little alley between the dojo and the boys dormitory. At the end of the alley, the disciples all spotted something that had clearly not been there earlier. With its edges sparkling and glinting like glass in the sunlight, a portal had opened up upon the wall. Through the portal, they could easily see a very familiar looking dojo interior, very clearly the one they'd all been gathered at in London a week or so ago.

"This is a one-way portal, people," Harry announced. "Once you walk through it, there is no way back. And by walking through, you immediately trigger the contract's termination. And for those of you who come from overseas, don't worry about how you'll be getting home. We've already left you all a generous fee that should cover any expenses you'll have on your trip home, as well as a means of contacting either the airlines or getting in touch with someone who can come retrieve you."

"But don't get any _fancy ideas_ with this!" Dudley barked out, having seen more than a few unpleasant looks of sadistic glee pass between a few of the Chi-Disciples. "The portal will _only_ transport someone who's _freely_ and _willingly_ made their choice to quit. If someone decides to try something _funny_ , like say, _**push someone unwilling through the portal**_ … Well, let's just say that there will be… _dire consequences_ for those involved."

That rather blatant warning quickly wiped the anticipation and devious smiles off those who'd been considering that very exercise. Now, they were once again shooting angry glares and almost-pouts at the Saiyan who was truly solidifying his place as their single most hated person of all time. And more than a few of the other disciples (both Ki and Chi) present seemed to notice this as well, giving those certain individuals wary glances.

"Well, now that that's out of the way," Harry called out, smiling widely in a clear effort to change the heavy atmosphere. "Time to get back to our training! But I believe today we'll do something different. Dudley and I feel you're all ready for us to finally teach you how to access your inner powers! The first step to becoming bad-asses like us! For those who are interested, head to the dojo!"

Needless to say, everyone quickly turned and dashed for the building in question as quickly as they could move.

Not five minutes later, everyone, even the many sensei and instructors, were seated on the floor of the dojo facing their two masters with gazes of excitement, anticipation, and cool calculation. Harry and Dudley were likewise seated on the floor beside one another, murmuring quietly to each other in low voices as they had a last-second discussion and made plans between them. Finally, as the impatient fervor of their disciples were starting to reach its breaking point, they stopped and faced the crowd.

"Now, listen up, class!" Harry said loudly enough for all to hear him. "What we're about to discuss here is the most basic understanding of tapping into your power. Whether it's ki or chi, it doesn't matter right at this point. At the very core of the issue, whether it's magical or not, we're dealing with _energy_."

"This energy, as you likely know, is present within each and every living creature on this world. But the only reasons we could find that no one else seems to know how to access this energy to its fullest potential has everything to do with how we look at that energy. Wizards tend to see their energy as a separate entity of infinite power that they can draw on and focus through their wands to effect change on the world around them. Normal people see this energy as body heat and bio-electricity that the human body can produce to certain levels for maximum of efficiency. Both of them do have valid ideas within their own scopes of understanding. But both of them are half wrong!"

"If you want to learn how to harness your energy," Dudley spoke up as Harry fell silent. "You have to _stop_ thinking of these forces as a matter of scientific _or_ magical perspectives. They are _**not**_ two completely different things! They are one and the same! Our bodies do produce certain base levels of energy that the scientific community understanding as body heat and static electricity. Most mainstream scientists think that the human body can only make a finite amount and that any excess will be harmful to the person.. But, with the proper training, you can start forcing yourself to produce heightened levels of this energy _without_ burning out your body in the process. This means that you will be making it into a potentially limitless supply to draw on that is both part of and separate from you."

Taking up the reins again, Harry said, "But we aren't here to discuss the theories behind this energy, only to show where our understanding of it comes from. For you to learn how to access your energy, you must first have a decent amount of excess energy within yourself. You can create this excess by strengthening your bodies, increasing your stamina and endurance many times over. That was the point of this first week of training. But that is only the _physical_ aspect of it. The next part, _this part_ , of the training focuses heavily on the mental and spiritual aspects."

"Remember all of those meditation exercises we've been trying to teach you lot?" Dudley asked, grinning at their disciples, most notably the Chi-Disciples who seemed to be only partially able to follow all of this. "Well, now you get to demonstrate just how well you've learned those exercises."

"That's right," Harry nodded, much to the quiet discontent of many a disciple present. Gesturing towards the group, he stated, "Enter the first meditation phase now and we guide you into the next step." After a few moments to wait for their disciples to attain the positions, Harry and Dudley joined them, closing their eyes as Harry continued, "The point of meditations is to calm your minds, to feel your body and to relax. But that is only the start. To find your energy, you must first imagine that you _are_ the energy. Pure and raw."

"Start by focusing on your breath," Dudley said softly. "Feel it as it travels inside and fills your lungs… Feel it as it enters your blood… Feel your blood as it moves through your body… Think of all that as energy… Now, touch it, feel it…direct it…Pull it out, slowly."

"And remember this most important lesson of all: do or do not, there is no try," Harry finished. That last comment drew a few muffled snickers from the Ki-Disciples, but those were quickly stifled as they started refocusing.

* * *

( **Author's Note** ) Sorry for the late, late, LATE update. It's just that my muse has been dropping a lot lately. Plus, the quite obvious _**LACK** _ of interest that this story has garnered of late has only compounded my problem.

Between working on my own original story with **Fiori75** , torn between several others I'm working on, and a new one that's been bouncing around in my head, I just can't work up the drive to write anymore. My latest story idea is a _Ranma 1/2_ x _Dragon Ball Z_ crossover. If you're interested and want me to write it, let me know in a review!

And reviews would help **_GREATLY_ ** in boosting my interest and drive and I really like this story, so please review! I'm begging you guys! Seriously, no one's bothering to review anymore. Is there some kind of ban on leaving reviews that I don't know about? Or have you guys' interests in my stories just vanished, like my muse?

1\. Ōbake = a type of Japanese shapeshifting yōkai, kitsune, bakeneko, the mujina, and tanuki are the most commonly know


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